Halo: The Next Hurrah
by goldenEY3
Summary: Sequel to Halo: Forward Operations Base. It is 170 years in the future, and the Covenant have finally mustered the strength to attack the Ark and start the next Great Crusade. All that stands in their way is a Spartan empire, and the last remaining SPARTAN-IIs who have just been woken from cryosleep for their last battle. Non-canonical with Halo 4 or the Kilo-Five trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

Nicoline lead the trainees and a few trainers on their last lap around the course. The dirt by the road was pounded down hard, having taken the abuse of over one hundred years of training. The trainees themselves were gasping and groaning, but they were children, not even a year into boot, so it was to be expected. She was looking forward to the lesson following the run. She had a degree in teaching, history specifically, and today she got to use it. Nicoline took a deep breath and relished the fresh air. It was a great day, with perfect weather. The seasons is Sparta were longer than the Earth standard, and right now, that meant that they got to enjoy a longer summer.

Ships flew through the air, nearly perfectly silent on their gravity pods. Many were heavy transports, carrying anything from food to raw materials to even exoskeleton wearing workers, but there were also small, personal ships and, of course, military drop ships. The wind kicked up pleasantly as they came to the end of their run.

"Form up," she said. The trainees stopped and sluggishly complied. _A few more months and five miles won't even wind them,_ she thought. They were unusually resilient, but that was to be expected. Even though they were children, they were Spartans, products of their eugenics work.

Nicoline helped a few other trainers hand out water bottles to the squads that fully complied with the form up order. While they were barely a year into boot, their form was perfect. Many Spartan parents raised their children with at least rudimentary knowledge of military jargon and formations, but all were raised with the strict sense of discipline. There was no need to teach, or discipline, what was second nature.

"Does anyone know where we are?" Nicoline asked.

Most of the children—_trainees_, she mentally corrected herself—rose their hands. She picked one at random, the number 908 stenciled on his shirt.

"Ma'am, we're at one of the cryogenic banks, ma'am," he said.

"Very good, trainee. Do you know which one it is?" She asked.

"No, ma'am."

"You'd better learn, trainee. This is your history you're learning, and it's damn important," she said. She gestured to the squat building. "This is the _first_ cryogenic bank in Spartan history."

A few of the children gasped.

"Do any of you know what that means?" She asked. All the children raised their arms. "You, 749."

"Ma'am, this is the bank where Generals Fredrick, Kelly, Linda and Naomi are kept, ma'am."

"Very good. I dare to assume that all of you know who they are. We're going to go in and take a look."

The children were very composed, but they were leaking excitement. Nicoline didn't blame them; everyone was giddy when they got to see Fredrick, Kelly, Linda and Naomi. Four of the surviving SPARTAN-II members, perhaps the last four, and the founders of Sparta and their lifestyle. If they were religious, it would be like getting to meet Buddha, or the Prophet Mohammad. She opened the door to the cryogenic facility and walked in. The staff was there, waiting for them.

"ID," Adrian, the desk attendant, said. It was a pure formality, Nicoline knew Adrian personally, but protocol had to be followed. She handed over her ID card and Adrian ran it through the scanner. It beeped, giving her clearance.

"Take the elevators to the first subterranean floor, and stay on the walkways," he said.

"Thank you." Nicoline turned to the trainees. "You heard the man, get to the elevators. No pushing."

"Yes, ma'am," the trainees said and obediently walked to the elevators. They could hardly contain themselves, though, and Nicoline didn't blame them. She was getting excited, too. Everyone, not just Spartans but civilians too, knew the legends of the three who founded Sparta. They were as famous as _the_ Master Chief.

There were four freight elevators, and they were able to take everyone, trainees and trainers. There was muted talk in Nicoline's elevator, but she let it slide. The children were going to meet frozen legends, after all.

They got out at the first of several subfloors. An attendant was waiting to clear them to enter the main chamber. The air was cold, to be expected of a cryogenic facility.

"Form up, two lines," Nicoline ordered. The children quickly obeyed, and the attendant keyed the access code. The pneumatic doors slid open, and Nicoline lead the trainees in. Row upon rows of cryopods filled the space, each with a soldier lying in them and each clearly marked. They all wore moisture wicking undergarments, and many were showing their age. She lead them through the bank, the trainees gawking.

"You are about to see some of our most honored soldiers," she said. "You are all Spartans, and if you grow old enough, you are presented with two choices. The first is to continue to participate in police- and military- actions against the Covenant Nations, to safeguard Earth, the UNSC and Sparta from hostile aliens for the rest of your natural life. This is the course of action that Generals Tom and Ash took.

"The second is to agree to enter cryogenic stasis, as these soldiers have decided to do. You will be time travelers, of sorts. The choice is not made lightly, because as you know, Generals Fredrick, Kelly, Linda and Naomi have been in cryosleep for the past one hundred and seventy years. Do you know why they, as well as the hundreds of other Spartans in this and other cryobanks, chose this option?"

Trainees raised hands. Nicoline picked one.

"Ma'am, it's to be there in our hour of need, when the Covenant Nations finally unite and move to destroy humanity, ma'am."

"Very good, trainee. Can any of you tell just how big the Covenant Nations are? Trainee, you."

"Ma'am, we don't know for sure, but we believe them to occupy around four sectors of civilized space, ma'am."

"And just how big is a sector defined as?"

"Ma'am, two hundred thousand cubed astronomical units, which is the distance from Earth to the sun, ma'am."

"Very good. I'm glad to see you're using your head for something other than a helmet rack. And who else are threatened by the Covenant Nations?"

"Ma'am, the Eli—Sangheili that sided with us during the Battle of Earth, ma'am."

"You'd better watch your mouth, trainee. The Sangheili don't like being called 'Elites.' Understand?"

"Perfectly, ma'am."

"Damn right you do. Aside from that, you're right. The Sangheili that sided with us are known as traitors to their fanatical cousins. They have come to our aid, and we theirs, more times than we can count. Even a delegation came to Sparta to cement a peace treaty with us sixty-eight years ago. We are all in this together, because as far as our spies, as well as the UNSC's ONI can tell, they outnumber us by quite a bit. So if some charismatic San 'Shyuum or Sangheili was to unite every faction, we're all equally screwed, especially if they're able to get their hands on a Halo array.

"That's what they are here for, for when the shit gets real and we're in a right spot of trouble," Nicoline said, gesturing to the row upon row of cryogenic pods behind her.

"Every Spartan kept in a bank like this is a hero," she continued. "After all, our life expectancies aren't as long as a civilian's. I'm sure you all know the saying: 'there are old riders and there are bold riders, but there are never any old, bold riders…'"

"'But if you see one, holy shit, stay out of their way,'" the trainees said, finishing the old saying with gusto.

"Language, trainees," Nicoline chastised, although she still smiled. They walked down until they came to the end of the floor. Against the wall were four cryotubes. They were given their own wall, and had names engraved on them.

General Fredric – 104

General Kelly – 087

General Linda – 058

General Naomi – 010

The trainees gasped. Each of the Spartans were like any other Spartan in the bank, lying on their gel pads and completely inert, but they somehow seemed more majestic. These were the first ones who made Sparta, the last of the mythical SPARTAN-II project, the project that saved humanity.

"These, trainees, are the Generals," Nicoline said. She wasn't immune to the majesty; reverence filled her voice. "What are Fredric, Kelly and Linda known for?"

"Ma'am, for founding Sparta, ma'am" the trainees chorused.

"And General Naomi?"

"Ma'am, for solidifying a peace treaty with the marines and the civilians, ma'am."

"And who helped her?"

"Ma'm, Saint Lucy, ma'am."

"That's right. And if you're lucky and willing, you can be frozen with them."

"Excuse me, ma'am, but who is that?" A trainee asked. Nicoline looked to where the trainee was pointing. There, to the left of the Generals, was a cryotube like any other. A man lay inside, light scars covering his body, with a wicked grin on his face. There was a name engraved on it, again standard, but there was no rank or number.

Theodore.

"We don't know," Nicoline said. "I did my doctoral research on him, but there aren't many records on him. All we know is that he was the first Spartan to be frozen in a cryobank, beating the Generals by a full Earth-standard year. But we can't find any files, records or even a number for him. It's almost as if his information was purposely left blank."

"Ma'am, why would they do that?"

"When the cryobank program first started, it was not as a reputable organization as it is now," Nicoline said. "The Generals were famous for joking that it was their 'easy retirement plan.' Two years after they were interned in the bank, ONI found information on the Covenant Nation, and found that, should they unite, our existence was doomed. From there, the bank became more of a safety precaution, a worst-case scenario if you will.

"With more Spartans volunteering to be frozen, a better categorization system was needed. So for all the Spartans who were frozen previously, their information was added after the fact. For a few Spartans, including Theodore there, we lost some information."

"Ma'am, is it right to assume that Theodore might be a better soldier than the Generals?"

A few trainees hushed the speaker, but Nicoline stopped them.

"It's a good assumption. The only thing we could find is that, apparently, he was ranked 'hyper-lethal,' the first Spartan since the III program to gain that honorific."

"Ma'am, so he would be part of the One Man Army Corp?" One trainee said, voice full of wonder.

"Yes he would. He could even be considered the pre-cursor of the OMAC. There was no record of any other hyper-lethal Spartan at the time."

"Ma'am, can't we wake him, ma'am?"

"We don't want to do that. While we know that we can wake any frozen Spartan, we don't know if there might be complications. No human has ever been frozen as long as the Generals and Theodore, so we want to minimize the risk. Those are long odds, even for Spartans, but it is part of the risk you willingly take if you decide to be frozen."

"Ma'am, will you be frozen?"

Nicoline smiled.

"I think I would like that," she said. "One day, I'll be able to rub shoulders with the Generals, and maybe I can finally ask this Theodore who he really was."

The doors to the cryoroom opened and attendants walked in. Nicoline frowned. They were almost running, and had a hard look to their faces. Adrian walked, nearly ran, up to her.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Sorry Nicoline, but everyone has to leave," Adrian said.

"Why?"

"We got word from the OSI," he said. This got Nicoline's attention. Why would the Office of Spartan Intelligence contact the cryobank? Then her blood froze.

"You're serious."

"Sadly, yes. They've been talking with Sangheili Ministry of Counter-Intelligence. The Covenant Nation is finally making a move."

"The entire Nation?" She asked. "Not just a massive raiding party?"

"The entire Nation," he confirmed. "It's the Sky Fall contingency. We're waking everyone up."

* * *

Fred groaned. It felt like he jumped out of Slipspace without the benefit of being in his armor. The last time he did that it shook him like paint in a mixer, and that when he was still young and in his prime. Now it felt…he really didn't know what it made him feel like. He never felt this way before, and it couldn't change for the better fast enough. He still felt like something was missing.

"Sir? Can you sit up?" Someone said.

He moved, and suddenly he was coughing his lungs out. Right, the lung fluid. That's what was missing. How could he forget that?

"Just cough sir."

It was all that Fred could do. He coughed, spat and heaved, finally getting the vile stuff out of his throat. Then he heard others coughing, and he remembered that he wasn't alone.

"Linda?" He asked. He was surprised that he was able to talk at all. He half-expected that rust would shoot out of his mouth instead of words. "Kelly? Naomi?"

"They're here, sir. Just take it easy, you're all going to be fine."

Fred sat up and blinked. His eyes were slow to respond, so slow. It reminded him of his age. God, how could he get this old? He never would have expected to get that old. Never in his life.

The more he blinked, the more he could see. He was in a room. A medical room, from the looks of it, and he was getting out of his cryopod. Things were too bright, but slowly got better. He saw Kelly, Linda and Naomi on pods and were in the same process of waking up as he was. Then Kelly hopped off her bed and started to stretch, much to the horror of what looked like doctors. Dammit, how did she stay so fast?

"General, sir, can you look at me?"

Fred looked up and saw a doctor. He was holding a pen light in his hand.

"Just follow the light, sir. Thank you." The light moved left, right, up and down. Fred followed it. "Now look forward." The doctor shined the light into his eyes, than out, than back. "Reactions look good. How do you feel?"

"Like I jumped out of Slipspace in my birthday suit," Fred said.

"That's understandable, sir. Can you tell me who you are?"

"I'm Fred, Spartan-104."

"Can you tell me who your companions are? Point them out."

"Kelly, 087. Linda, 058. Naomi, 010."

"Good, it's all good. I'm Doctor Harris, and allow me to be the first to welcome you back to the land of the living, General Fredric." He offered Fred a hand.

"Just 'Fred,'" he said, shaking the hand.

"Sure thing, General Fred."

"I know my rank, don't need to remind me," Fred said. He slowly got to his feet. The room spun a little, and he gripped the bedside.

"Careful now, sir. You still must be pretty woozy."

"You have no idea."

"I'll make a note of that. Is the room spinning?"

"A little, but I've got a hold on it," he said. He blinked a little and felt better. "Is there any water?"

"We've got plenty of that," the doctor said, handing him a water bottle. Fred drained the entire thing in one go.

"So you're very thirsty," Dr. Harris said, scribbling notes on what looked like a data slate.

"Where are we?"

"You're in a medical facility on Sparta. You might want to sit down for this next part."

"If you're waking us up, that only meant one thing. How long has it been?"

"Are you sure you don't want to sit down?"

"I made my peace with this before I froze myself," he said. "Tell me."

"One hundred and seventy years."

"Seriously?"

"I am, sir."

"It took this long for a big emergency to pop up?" He asked. "I was banking on fifty years."

"I'm…sorry to disappoint you?"

Dammit, it looked like Naomi won the betting pool. And if compound interest was still a constant, she was getting a lot of money.

"That's fine," he said. He took a step and his leg almost immediately cramped up. He hissed and went to do some stretching.

"Cramp?"

"All over," he said as his back seized up when he tried to bend down.

"That's probably a side-effect of being asleep for such a long time," Harris said, taking more notes. "My apologies, sir, but you and the other Generals set a record for the longest humans to be woken up from cryosleep. This is all unfamiliar territory for us, so we need to take as many notes as we can."

"I understand," Fred said. He slowly eased himself down. Good, he could still touch his toes.

"If you'd like, we have masseuses ready for you."

"I'd like that," Fred groaned.

"Do you…need a hand up?"

"Could you?"

Harris offered him a hard and Fred eased himself up, just in time to see Kelly get helped up by two large nurses. They had to be Spartans, or else the staff picked from a pool of very large nurses.

"Bite off a little more than you can chew over there?" He said.

"Very funny," Kelly groaned.

"Linda?"

"Wishing I stayed in cryo," she said. She was barely on her feet.

"Hey, you guys get the news?" Naomi asked.

"What news?" Linda asked.

"About how long we were out for."

"Ma'am, I don't think you should be talking about that," Naomi's doctor said.

"One hundred and seventy years," Naomi said, ignoring the man. "Guess who won the pool?"

"Dammit," Kelly sighed.

"Yep, one hundred and fifty to two hundred," Naomi grinned. "That's all me."

"Why couldn't this wait for another thirty years?" Linda asked. She had the two hundred to two-fifty pool.

"Or twenty years ago," Kelly said. She had the one hundred to one-fifty pool.

"How is compound interest these days?" Naomi asked.

"Uh…decent?" Her doctor said.

"Good enough for me. I got a hundred and seventy years' worth of interest waiting for me."

"Massage now, money later," Kelly said. She hissed in pain as the nurses helped her to a wheelchair. "I feel like my bones are rusted."

"It's on me. I'm sure I can afford it," Naomi laughed.

"Don't you worry, Generals," a man said. Fred could tell that he was a Spartan. No one else could ever be that tall. He had brown/tan hair in the usual military cut, a crisply pressed uniform bare of medals, and a barely suppressed grin. "Your treatment bill is being footed by the state of Sparta."

"That's nice," Linda said.

"Please, we set up funds for this day," the man said. "My name is Madani, Spartan-772. I'm the current General of the Armies of Sparta, and I'd like to welcome you back."

"Glad to be here," Fred said. "Fill us in while we're getting these muscles worked over."

"Would you like it if we waited until after the massages?" Madani asked.

"I don't know what kind of Spartan program you graduated from, but we were trained to hit the ground running," Fred said.

That got the man to straighten up a little.

"My apologies," Madani said, "I thought you would like a little time to adjust. You have been in cryo for a hundred and seventy years."

"And we were woken up because of dire circumstances," Linda said. "We can talk and get a massage at the same time."

"If you insist," Madani said. He nodded to the doctors and nurses. Wheelchairs were brought in and Fred eased himself into one.

"I'll have to accompany you," Harris said. "There are things I have to check out with you."

"Feel free," Fred said. They were wheeled out of the room and their cryopods and down a hallway, their entourage of doctors and nurses and other assistants following them.

"Start from the beginning," Fred said. "What happened when we were frozen?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Madani said, following. "There was some head-butting with the marines, but things quieted down when they started having children."

"Can't imagine marines having children," Kelly said.

"They can't imagine us having children," Naomi said. "Peacetime makes everyone strange."

"The biggest thing to happen was the formation of the Covenant Nation," Madani said. "After the First Battle of Circumstances, the fanatically religious sects retreated deep into space, and attempted to re-establish a Covenant empire. They failed, and they turned into bands of religious warriors, each attempting to gain control of the whole. They grew fast, and currently outnumber us and the Sanghaili empire."

"You mean the Elites?" Kelly asked.

Madani, the doctors and the nurses seemed to squirm.

"They're our allies now, and they prefer to be called Sanghaili," Madani said.

"So we're still allied with the fucking hinge-heads, huh?" Naomi said. Everyone gasped and stared at her. "What?"

"General Naomi, we greatly respect you," Madani started, "but could you please refrain from using that slur?"

"Slur? All I said was hinge-head."

"That's a slur now," Madani said, squirming. "It's the civilian equivalent of the 'N-word.'"

"Naomi, we've been at general peace for almost two centuries," Fred said. "We all have adjustments to make, habits to break. And if we're allied with them, we should avoid the slurs as much as possible."

"Understood, sir," Naomi said. "Still allied with—Sanghaili, after all these years. That's new."

"Well, we're allied with the faction that was under the control of the Arbiter," Madani said.

"We figured the Covenant wouldn't last," Linda said.

"It didn't. The writing was on the wall, even before you went into cryo. Even a blind man could see it. So the Arbiter did his best to set his little coalition up to work with humans, first the UNSC and eventually us."

"The Arbiter recognized us as a state?" Linda asked.

"The only one to do so," Madani said. They were wheeled into a room with massage tables waiting. Fred got up with minimal help and lay down on the table.

"Just going to attach some electrodes, sir," a woman said. "The electricity is low-voltage, should help unlock your muscles."

Fred felt plastic disks taped to his body. They were turned on, and it felt like every muscle was dancing. After all the seizing and cramping, it was heavenly. A hot blanket was gently placed on him to ensure that his muscles heated up properly.

"Ooh, where has this been my whole life?" Kelly groaned. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"After the Arbiter's death, things became quiet, if not sporadic," Madani continued. "There were nearly two other civilian uprisings, plenty of Covenant Nation raiding incursions and some rapid expansions by us."

"So we finally colonized other planets," Naomi said.

"That we did. Most were old Forerunner installations, like Onyx, but we even got an outpost on a Halo array."

"You're serious."

"Dead serious. It's lightly manned, because the UNSC could come knocking any day. Got plenty of people working on Forerunner tech. And, because we create our own budgets, we've been throwing more money at it than the UNSC has. Cumulatively, at least. They're still the bigger economy."

"Did Mjolnir get an upgrade?" Kelly asked.

Madani smiled.

"A tech demonstration would better show you. We'll wait until you're done."


	2. Chapter 2

The prayer hall of the massive capital ship was filled to the brim; it went beyond standing room only. Unggoy were pressed against each other, looking like a can of small fish instead of the rank and file of the Covenant, staying with their own kind and far from the Kig-Yar. But whenever some unfortunate Unggoy bumped against them, the Kig-Yar would snap at them, especially if it was a female the Unggoy bothered.

Both of the species occupied the far end of the cavernous hall, although they easily counted for half the population in not only the hall but also the ship and the fleet. Standing closer to the pulpit were the ever-loyal Sangheili and the ruthless Jiralhanae. Both species had feuds that went back centuries, and the only way to keep them in the prayer hall without blood being spilt was to have them stand side-by-side, so neither was closer to the pulpit. Even then, glares were shot across the five-meter gap that stood between the two species. The peace held, but barely.

The new Prophet of Truth, settled deep in his gravity throne, cleared his throat. All idle chatter died as his voice was projected across the hall, and the fleet. Drones hovered in front of him, relaying his image and voice to the many ships in his armada.

"Behold, brothers," he began, spreading his arms wide, "after so many years of bickering, of in-fighting, of proving our worth to all and yet to none, and after being so callously rejected, we are about to embark on the Great Journey.

"The Age of Strife is at an end! No longer will we cower in darkness, fighting over scraps of the former glory of the Covenant. For we have emerged from the shadows reborn, re-forged and with our purpose renewed in our collective beating hearts. We are about to embark on the Journey that will see us reunited with the Forerunners! We shall take their place in the Heavens as rulers of the immaterial realms! For that, we must rejoice!"

The hall was filled with cheers, the air shattered with the pounding of breastplates and the ground shaken by stomps. The Prophet of Truth relished in it, his senior staff behind him ever adding their voices and cheers to the beast of sound.

"But we cannot forget where we came from, what hardships we endured," he said, calling for quiet. It was quickly granted. "For our struggles define us, our grudges give us blessed hatred and drive to right those wrongs. We cannot forget the Great Schism, or our traitorous brothers who stood with the enemy, against us, ruining our ascension. Nor can we forget the Demons that hunted us, pressed us and shattered our resolve."

At the mention of the Demons, growls of hatred simmered.

"But we shall no longer need to fear them," Truth said, "for we stand united! Now, for the first time in generations! We no longer attack each other, battling for petty titles or cheapened ranks. We stand united, and all, even the Demons, shall tremble before our wrath. This time, brothers and sisters, we shall not be denied. The forces of the sinners, even with their Demon armies, could not possibly stand before us, the righteous. The path of the Great Journey is hard, but the rewards are worth it. The path long, but wide for all who wish to walk it. The path is long, but we are at the end of it!"

Truth was deafened by the cheers.

"And we shall see the end of it!" He yelled over the crowd. "We shall assume our place in the Heavens, and punish the wicked with the might of the Forerunners themselves! Now, today, we shall claim our divine right. For it is our destiny, as outlined by the Forerunners and their relics. So cheer, so pray, so devote yourselves! For soon we shall all be gods!"

Truth let the masses in the hall cheer. He let them scream. He let them devote themselves wholly, body and soul, to the Covenant again. They needed the strength to start the Great Journey. He floated away from the pulpit, towards the door to his chambers. Ful 'Theesnam, the Sangheili Fleet Master, was the only one to follow him. Ful was a master combatant and a spirited leader. He had his uses, but Truth's skin crawled when he was forced to admit that Ful was is equal. He was the Prophet of Truth, after all; none should ever be equal to him.

"An excellent speech, great Prophet," Ful said.

"I know it was an excellent speech," Truth said. "The Covenant need fire in their hearts, anger in their veins. We have vermin to kill, and when we have to kill vermin, it is best to do it with hate."

"Of course," Ful said. The screaming from the prayer hall died as they walked further into the ship, further to the deepest part of the _Holy Crusade_, Truth's newly built capital ship. "The Blessed Relic should be thrilled with our army."

"Of course he shall," Truth spat. "He will be joining his masters soon. What loyal servant of the Forerunners would not be ecstatic?"

Ful bristled but didn't growl his displeasure. Like any good Sangheili, he knew his place. Finally, the long corridor ended, and Truth waved the doors open. Inside were his chambers, larger than most command bridges and as ornate as any house of worship.

"Holy Salvis, we have need of your wise counsel," Truth said as he floated into his chambers.

"Yes, yes, yes, strategies to plot, sales to plan," the Forerunner artifact said, floating towards the duo. It was a misshapen metal sphere with a light red, cracked optical eye. Metal phalanges lifted and swayed on their own personal gravities as the relic dipped and dove in the air. Ful knelt while Truth prostrated himself before the Forerunner artificial intelligence. "Oh, please, none of that. We have no time to waste with such formalities, the Flood shall be coming soon, and we must retire them."

"Of course," Truth said.

"Have you received our latest reports?" Ful asked, rising from his knees.

"Indeed. We have a very sizable force ready to drive out," Salvis said. "I find it most interesting that all know basic Containment Protocol. Most interesting, but a great added bargain. The Flood must be stopped, as they were before."

"Do you have any recommendations for how to deal with the humans?" Ful asked.

"Indeed I do!" The tiny machine said cheerfully, spinning on its axis. "This 'humanity' that you refer to seem to be quite the tough customer. But it shall be no matter. They are a customer, regardless of toughness, and what do all customers want?"

"Please, enlighten us," Truth said with as much patience as he could muster. The relic was want to scatterbrained rants, and the longer it took to wring an answer out of it, the longer their wait would be to start the Great Journey.

"They want to be sold something," Salvis chuckled. "They might walk into a store idly, wondering what brought them there, but deep down inside their brains, they know they want to buy something. That is where I come in. I find them the item they want to purchase, often without them knowing it, and I make them buy it. It is what I excel at."

"Your talents are well known," Truth said, "if you could enlighten us with your plans for the Great Journey?"

"Oh, my plants for containment protocol are a work of art. I have truly outdone myself," Salvis said. "Mr. Ful, I have a question for you."

"Anything, holy Relic," Ful said, bowing. Truth's skin crawled again. The relic was choosing to speak to Ful and not him?

"Are there any of your brethren here that are loyal to the Sangheilios nation?"

"There are a few traitors and spies, yes," Ful spat.

"Good. Give them a brief outline of your sales pitch and release them."

"What?" Ful roared.

"I want you to release them, along with an elevator pitch of our plans," Salvis said, carefully repeating itself. "Was I unclear?"

"Holy Relic, they are traitors! They deserve death, not a pardon!"

"Holy Relic, I urge you to reconsider," Truth said.

"We're having a massive sale. We must get word out, even a rough advertisement or word-of-mouth would do," Salvis said. "No one could resist a sale happening near their home."

"So you mean to let our enemies know what we are planning?" Ful sputtered, spit flying from his four jaws.

"Yes, at least a little," Salvis replied. "A good salesman advertises a few key, big-budget items, something to draw people in. And once they are in the store, we pepper them with tiny sales items, things they don't have an will never need, but when they see the sales tickets, they start thinking, 'hmmm, maybe I do need a juicer in my life. That bookshelf _does_ look nice, and it's on sale, too! Twenty-five percent off? Yes, please!'"

The little relic floated this way and that as it prattled on and on.

"You expect our enemies to behave as wealthy landowners looking to spend money?" Truth demanded.

"No, the Relic speaks wisely," Ful said. "We let them know where we strike, but not with how many troops, or of what kind, or what our aim is. We will be coming to them, but with so little information, they will metaphorically come to us."

"Precisely!" Salvis said, spinning again. "Their guard will be down, their purse strings undone, and us waiting to help relieve them of money."

"Their lines will be ragged," Ful said. "They will never know where the bulk of our army will attack. They might over-commit to one theater of war and under-commit elsewhere. We will not be charging into a well-kept defensive line, but rather a hastily planned defensive stance."

"No need to be impressed," the relic said.

"Are you sure such a thing would work?" Truth asked.

"Of course it will!" Salvis shouted, suddenly rounding on Truth, the cracked optic blazing a deep, blood red. "All my sales are profitable! Need I remind you how much you benefited from my sales techniques? When you released me from that buried shopping center, what were you?" The ancient AI trust itself into Truth's face. He hit his gravity throne's controller, trying to move backwards, only to be advanced upon again. Soon he was backed against the wall.

"Alone, weak, the ruler of only a small, backwater mom-and-pop store, barely able to make ends meet! Leaking money like a sieve, couldn't plan a sale to save their life!" Salvis turned on Ful, who fell to his knees again. "And you, such an incompetent store manager! You could sell, but only when the customer asked for it, when they laid themselves bare, asking you where they should put their money! I made you see the big picture, made both of you run in the black for the first time in years! I made that mom-and-pop store into the biggest chain retailer in all the worlds!"

"Hold, blessed Salvis," Ful said, head pressed nearly into the floor. "You have filled our lives with blessings, and we are still reaping the rewards. Please, hold your temper, and we shall do you bidding."

Salvis floated from Ful to Truth to back to Ful again, they eye blazing that deep, pulsating red. Then the red turned to a light pink, and it floated upright again.

"Good," Salvis said in a cheerful voice. "Then let us not waste any more time. Time is money, and money is no good when the Flood come around. We must contain them, we must fire the array once more."

"We must assume our place in the Heavens as gods," Truth said.

"Yes, yes, yes, sure, whatever you say my dear CEO. Whatever you say. Now, come close and do exactly what I tell you."

Truth floated to Salvis, while Ful repositioned his kneeling self closer to the AI, and the holy relic spoke wisdom for them to lap up again.

* * *

Kelly felt like a million bucks. The massage has unkinked anything and everything. She was so fluid it felt like she was twenty years younger. Well, twenty years younger before she was frozen. It was strange to think that she was technically over two-hundred years old now.

They had changed into crisp new uniforms, each with the rank of general, and were lead down to a subterranean firing range.

"Place seems pretty nice," she said. It was huge, easily the size of the ranges on Reach, and it all seemed incredibly new.

"We refurbish them every five to ten years," Madani said. Like them, he wore a simple, unadorned dress uniform that only showed his rank. Spartans attended to attract medals like a magnet; Kelly figured that no one bothered with them unless it was a parade they were attending. Just as they used to do when they were soldiers. It made her itch, thinking about suiting up and fighting another war. "Well, let's get started, shall we? Tyler?"

Another Spartan walked in, this time pushing what seemed to be a large mannequin. A black sheet covered it, but Kelly could make out the head and arms.

"This is Tyler, my partner," Madani said. "He is also the Lieutenant-General of the Armory. He was in charge of the latest armor redesign."

"It's an honor to meet you all," Tyler said, pausing to snap a crisp salute to everyone. Kelly snapped one back before he could finish the salute. Good, she was still fast.

"I'll get this set up in a second," Tyler said, moving the covered mannequin to the middle of the range. He pulled off the black sheet, and Kelly couldn't help but whistle.

While their Mjolnir armor was massive, with large armor sections, this new Mjolnir was thin, skeletal even. There were no true armor plates over the body, instead it just had sections, strips along the outside of the arms and legs, and the torso portion seemed to be modeled after a ribcage. Under the armor was the black hydrostatic gel suit that went under their armor, and that didn't change at all. It was very sleek, yes, but it didn't look like it could stop a knife, let alone a bullet.

"Pretty, but it doesn't seem very strong," Linda said.

"Things have changed over the past hundred years," Tyler said. He pulled out a PDA and tapped a button. The shields popped into existence, but not like Mjolnir shields that flowed to life like they water was running down them. These shields were suddenly, violently, there, and they popped into existence with plenty of jagged edges and sharp angles. If Kelly blinked at the wrong time, she could have easily missed them being turned on. And once they were on, they faded into the background, like the old shields used to do.

"Okay, that was interesting," Naomi said.

Tyler grinned and pulled out a plasma grenade. Kelly stared as he triggered it and slapped it to the suit. The grenade burned radiantly bright as he walked away, and whined before it exploded into a blue fireball. Kelly shielded her eyes, only to have them nearly bulge out of their sockets when the dust cleared. The armor was still there, the mannequin not even remotely damaged. Instead, the shields shined a bright orange, blocky and angular, not at all like the shields of old.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Hrunting Mark VI armor," Tyler said, waving majestically.

"What happened to Mjolnir?" Fred asked.

"The defining characteristic of Mjolnir was the shields," Tyler said. "When we perfected a new shield design, we decided that we couldn't keep giving it sub-names, it was its own armor now."

"Keeping with tradition and naming things after folklore, huh?" Naomi said.

"We're suckers for it," Madani said.

"We really are," Tyler agreed. "We already used Excalibur and Armads for previous names, so we decided to go with Beowulf this time."

"His heroic sword," Linda said. "I like it."

"Thank you. Our shield breakthrough was fueled by reverse-engineered Forerunner tech. Those aren't energy shields, like what the Covenant used, but rather hard light shields, which used to be pure Forerunner tech."

"Does the UNSC have access to this tech?" Fred asked.

"They do, but not on this miniature scale," Tyler said. "We have a crack team of scientists, Spartan and civilian, working on this. And, as a military nation, we can give them more money per capita than the UNSC. At the expense of getting bitched at by the civilians, but that's another story."

"Why would the civilians bitch?" Kelly asked.

"It's a long story, so here's the short version. Most governments are civilian based with a military attachment; we're military based with a civilian attachment. They pay a lot of bills, and they don't like it. Leads to a lot of friction every year around tax time."

"It's very impressive," Fred said. "But I see a suit. Where's the armor?"

The civilians laughed. Even Madani and Tyler cracked a smile, the most emotion a Spartan was prone to.

"The shields are strong enough to repel nearly all small-arms fire," Tyler said. "But we agree, they're still not invincible. If they were, it would only be a matter of time before someone developed a weapon that could punch through the shields. Despite that, we figured that because of the shield strength, we could roll back on the actual armor. It cuts back on costs while still providing maximum protection."

"What about plasma pistols? Can they still overload the shields?" Kelly asked.

"Technically no. Hard light tech offers more physical control over the shields; we found that with the Mark IV armor that we can create shield layers. What you're actually seeing is four separate layers of hard light shields, not just one.

"An overloaded plasma pistol can still knock out a shield layer or two, but we have two more layers for them to penetrate. So this gives the illusion that Spartans can take a plasma pistol to the face and keep on attacking. It's great for breaking enemy morale."

"Is there a way to fully penetrate the shields in one go?" Linda asked.

"Sniper rifles and heavy weapons," Tyler and Madani said as one.

"Hard light shields are strong, but brittle," Tyler continued. "If there is too much fragmentation thrown up, like from a rocket launcher, it can tear away shield layers like tissue paper."

"And sniper rifles are sniper rifles," Madani said. "They're made to punch through armor from a mile away, they tear right through the shields."

"Good," Linda said.

"Why is it good?"

"Because the sniper rifle is still wickedly powerful, that's why."

"Ignore her, she just likes her sniper rifles," Fred said.

"That's what she's famous for," Tyler said with a shrug. "Would you like to get suited up?"

"Took you long enough to offer," Kelly said, stepping forward.

"Follow us to the armory and we'll get you suited," Madani said.

"Are there any more tricks that these things can do?" Fred asked as they walked out.

"Just a few, but you'll like them," Tyler said. "Because the battlefield is constantly changing, we built in some flexibility to the armor. You can reallocate the power to different components. You can't tell it from looking, but the servos that run the armor are just as powerful as the suits you knew. More so, actually. So if you're in a situation where you need more power from the servos, you can reduce power to the shields and give that power to the servos."

"That sounds neat."

"It's helped us when fighting Brutes," Madani said.

"Isn't that a faux pas, calling them their slang names?" Linda asked.

"Technically it is, but we're at war with them, so it's okay," Madani said. Linda snorted.

"The shields draw a lot of power, so be careful how you reallocate it," Tyler said. "You can reallocate one layer of shielding to the servos, but any more and you risk burning them out. Of course, it can work the other way around, too. You can kill power to the servos and use it to beef up the shields."

"Draw power from the servos?" Kelly said. "Won't that make the whole thing collapse? It does weigh half a ton."

"The old Mark V, maybe, but not Hrunting," Tyler grinned. "Our armor weight a quarter of that, only 250 pounds, most of it being the warm fusion reactor. This was another reason why we decided to cut down on the armor, it saves weight. You can turn off the servos and still be able to move."

"Okay, I'm impressed," Kelly said, laughing. She was getting really giddy now. If the armor weighed a fourth of her old armor, that would mean that she could run even faster now.

"We aim to please," Tyler said. "You can also subvert the power to armor abilities, boosting them."

"Armor abilities?" Linda asked.

"Right, that was a little after you," Tyler said. "The UNSC found a way to create modular abilities to add to the armor of the Spartan IVs, and they called them armor abilities. They were able to create a cloaking device, an armor locking module to supercharge the shields, a jetpack and a hologram of the user. We have our own abilities, reverse engineered of course, and you can reallocate the shield power to augment the abilities."

"I like the sound of a cloaking device," Linda said.

"We figured you'd like to play with that. Is there anything else you'd like to see?" Madani asked.

"Maybe a quick tour of Sparta," Fred said. "I'd like to see how much things have changed."

"I'd love to show you around, but sadly, I'm on a tight schedule," Madani said. "I'm sure you can understand."

"Now you know why I hated my job," Fred said.

"All too well," Madani said. "I'll assign an aide to you. She'll show you around, help you adapt to everything, answer questions, etcetera, etcetera."

"Guess that'll have to do for now," Fred said. "Let's get our suits."

"Excellent. Mary, you can step out from behind everyone."

Kelly turned around. A thin, black haired Spartan woman stepped out from behind the doctors and aides. It seemed she was trying her best to blend in, and until she stepped out, she did a good job of it. She clutched a data slate to her side, her fingers white from grabbing it. She snapped a salute.

"Y-yes sir," she said. "Corporal Mary, SPARTAN-876. I'm at your service."

"I'll leave you in her capable hands," Madani said. "She can put us in contact if you need anything." Madani and Tyler took a turn and walked down the hall. Mary ran forward to lead them to the armory.

"The General was being kind," she said. "I'm not much, but I'll do my best to help you."

"I've never met a Spartan who didn't give their all. I'm sure you'll be fine," Fred said to Mary. "Can you give us a quick tour once we get suited up?"

"Yes sir, I will. Doctors, do they have a clean bill of health?"

"They seem to check out," Fred's doctor said. "Our light scans don't show any tears or breaks in muscles, bones or ligaments, and they seem to have shaken off the worst of the freezer burn."

"When did you scan us?" Naomi asked.

"Handheld scanners." The doctor held up a coaster-sized device. "We've been scanning you since you've woken up. Sorry for the invasion of privacy, but we had to make sure that you woke up just fine."

"No problem," Kelly said. "I'd hate to wake up a drooling idiot."

"That would certainly be a worst-case scenario."

"And the AIs gave them a clean bill of health," Mary said. "We're good for your tour."

"You had AIs looking after us?" Linda asked.

"Of course. You're the founding Generals of Sparta, we take care of our own," Mary said. "Tracy? Would you like to say something?"

"If you wouldn't mind," a tuneful voice said. Light shimmered and a shelf of books appeared by Linda, keeping pace with them as they walked. "Hello. I'm Tracy, Mary's assistant and one of the AIs assigned to your rather brief rehabilitation."

"Nice to meet you, Tracy," Naomi said. "If I may, I haven't seen an AI that didn't pick a human avatar in quite some time. What's the significance of your avatar?"

"Thank you for asking. I was designed to help with data categorization. It seemed like a librarian job, so I picked an avatar that represented the files that I organized." A few of the books of Tracy's avatar floated off the shelf and rearranged themselves.

"It's nice. I'm glad we have Smart AIs looking after us."

"Always a pleasure to have our work recognized. Many of us do work that keeps Sparta up and running, and thanks is always appreciated."

"We still do plenty of work though," Mary said. "Here is the armory."

"Good. Let's see how many Spartans decided to join us," Kelly said, walking into the armory. She was expecting maybe a couple dozen, but there seemed to be several dozen. "Whoa."

"Cryopods became a popular alternative to serving out the remainder of their services," Mary said. "We have over eight hundred Spartans in the cryobanks."

"Guess they found out about our easy retirement plan," Fred said, looking at the Spartans. They were all changing into the black hydrostatic gel suit, and many were attaching pieces of their armor. One looked up and dropped their armor segment, standing ramrod straight.

"Generals on deck!" Everyone dropped what they were doing and stood at rigid attention. Kelly returned the salute.

"At ease," Fred said. Kelly could hear that he was put off guard by the number of Spartans he saw. All the Spartans stood at ease.

"Maybe they need a speech," Kelly said. Fred sighed and stepped forward.

"I assume everyone knows who I am," he said. The Spartans chuckled. "Figured as much. Well, I don't know much about this world, how much has changed and where the straws have fallen. But I do know that Kelly, Linda, Naomi and I were woken up because of a damn serious threat to us, humanity and the UNSC. So I plan on going out there, finding out what is threatening us, and blasting it back to hell so I can go back to my easy retirement.

"Many of you were frozen knowing that we might need help with whatever problem reared its head in the future, and I was never one to turn down help. Your service here is welcome, and I thank you for choosing to join us. So let's get suited up and go fix whatever was broken."

"Yes, sir," the roomful of Spartans shouted. As one, they saluted and went back to suiting up in their armor.

"Better find my armor," Fred mumbled. "Where are they keeping our stuff?"

"Over there, sir," Mary said hastily, pointing to the front of the armory. Kelly saw one Spartan approaching them from the side of the armory.

"I'll catch up with you," she said and turned to the approaching Spartan. "Cameron, nice to see you again."

"It's good to see you too, ma'am," Cameron said, easily saluting.

"You got older," Kelly said, returning the salute. Cameron had gotten older. Age lines ringed her face, and her hair seemed to be thinning a little, but that didn't stop her from fidgeting with it, combing it with her fingers once she dropped her salute.

"Happens to the best of us," Cameron said. She realized she was playing with her hair, and she dropped her arms to the side.

"I'm a little surprised that you decided to freeze yourself," Kelly said. "Figured you would have kept on soldiering."

"Anna and I decided together," Cameron said. "We figured we could do more good on ice than in the ground, so we got ourselves frozen fifteen years after you."

"You partnered up with Anna? I thought Anna didn't like partners."

"We decided a year after Circumstances," Cameron said. She couldn't keep the twinge of guilt from her eyes. Kelly remembered seeing her as she recovered. Cameron lost her partner, Bridget, at Circumstances, along with twenty-eight of the men under her command and nearly herself.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Mary said, saluting to Cameron. "But…but you're Petty Chief Officer Cameron, correct?"

"Yes ma'am."

"It's an honor to meet you, ma'am," Mary babbled. She grabbed her hand to shake it. "Every Spartan studies your strategy of the First Battle of Circumstances."

"As a major defeat?" Cameron asked. Kelly noticed her pained expression, but Mary either missed it, or was too unfamiliar with her to know.

"Quite the opposite, it's a brilliant tactic that saved the lives of billions and brought the Covenant to—"

"You'll forgive me, but I don't like talking about Circumstances," Cameron said. Kelly could see her eyes water and her breathing deepen. She never got over her shell shock.

"I understand. Forgive me, but I always wanted to talk to you," Mary said, blushing as if she insulted Cameron.

"It's fine," she said. "It's…just a bad memory."

"That's understandable. I'll…I'll let you get back to getting into your armor."

"Wait," Cameron said. "You said it was the 'First Battle of Circumstances.' Was there a second? Third?"

"There were four battles for Circumstances," Mary said. "But the First was the largest, scale wise. It was the last hurrah for the old Covenant group, and you broke their backs. After their defeat, they retreated back into their territory and fell apart. Every battle after that was more of a glorified raiding party, as opposed to an actual enemy movement."

"That's good," Cameron said. She heaved a sigh of relief. "Were there any major casualties?"

"Only a few. Cumulatively, at least."

"Good." Cameron smiled. She saluted. "Thank you for answering my questions."

"It was the least I could do," Mary said, enthusiastically returning the salute.

"Think you're up to this?" Kelly asked Cameron.

"I don't think so, but it's what I signed on for," Cameron said.

"You're playing with your hair again," Kelly said.

Cameron forcefully put her hand to her side. "Thank you, ma'am. I'll let you suit up. I hear we got work to do."

"That we do, Petty Officer. I look forward to seeing Anna when she's most available."

Cameron saluted and walked off. Kelly found Fred and Linda near the front of armory with two Spartan technicians to help them put their armor on. Mary followed her, two steps behind her.

"Fancy," she said, opening the locker. Inside, the hydrostatic gel layer was hanging from a hanger, and the armor segments were nestled on shelves according to their position on her body.

"We spare no expenses on our men," Mary said. For once, she spoke with certainty in her voice.

"There were funds set up for Spartans when they were frozen," Tracy said, winking into existence.

"And we're glad to see it," Linda said as a mechanic helped her put the breastplate on.

"You haven't played with our armor abilities yet, either," Tracy said, mischief in her voice. "We'll give you some acclimation time as we move out."

"You liking the new armor? I know I am."

Kelly's blood froze. She, Fred and Linda jerked up as if ice was dumped down their backs. Ted sauntered over in brand-new armor, a grin on his face.

"What the hell is he doing up?" Fred demanded.

"What do you mean?" Mary said.

"Corporal, I order you to restrain this man," Fred said, pointing to Ted.

"What? Why?" A few Spartans looked up to see what the commotion was.

"Come on, General, I just woke up," Ted said. "I have as much right to be here as you do."

"Like hell," Fred spat. "Corporal Mary, restrain him."

"Why? What has he done?" Mary asked, flustered despite herself.

"Fred here just never really liked me," Ted said.

"That's because you're out of your damned mind," Kelly said.

"What is going on here?" Madani said, walking from across the room. "Could someone fill me in?"

"Ted is a psychopath and he shouldn't even be unfrozen," Linda said.

"A psychopath? We don't have a file on Theodore. We only know he requested a suicide mission upon being frozen."

"You approved my mission," Ted said. "Don't you remember?"

"Only too well," Fred hissed. "I should have shot you into deep space when I had the chance."

"Okay, general, we need to calm down," Madani said. "Theodore's sparse file states that he is hyper-lethal. That means OMAC has him."

"Oh-Mack?"

"Apologies, it's an acronym we came up with nearly a hundred years ago. It stands for 'One Man Army Corp.' They're comprised of Spartans who are ranked 'hyper-lethal,' and they undertake the most dangerous missions we have to offer. Nearly every mission they go out on is a one-way trip. Theodore seems to be the perfect candidate for them."

"I have a need, so that means that I get to be thawed out," Ted said. He smiled angelically, but Kelly knew how deceptive that could be.

"Madani, I am ordering you to restrain him and throw him in the brig," Fred snapped. Kelly realized that many other Spartans were staring at them. Madani stood up straighter.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, sir, but you cannot give me that order," he said. "Remember the law you made before you and the other Generals were frozen? It stripped you, and every Spartan that is frozen, of your rank. Every frozen Spartan only holds an honorary rank to avoid clogging up the chain of command with generals. That gives you no authority, and last I checked, a General of the Armies of Sparta greatly outranks an honorary rank."

Fred's face was as neutral as neutral could be. But Kelly knew that he was seething. She knew him that well.

"If Theodore here was truly a menace to you, you would have put it in his file, let us know about it," Madani continued. "But, seeing as there is next to nothing on his file, we are going to use him. He is going to join OMAC, and that is final. Do you understand?"

"I do, sir," Fred said. Kelly doubted that she could ever say that so easily.

"Good. Now, this has caused enough of a scene," Madani said. "Good day, Honorary General."

"Excuse me, but where is this OMAC that I'm joining?" Ted asked.

"I'm heading that way, so I'll take you to them. Follow me."

Ted waved as he walked away. Fred stood there, seething.

"I don't know him and even I can tell he's off his rocker," Naomi said.

"You're just good at reading people. We can't assume General Madani is as well," Linda said. "It's kind of funny. We really never _did_ talk about Ted."

"And right now, it's coming back to bite us in the ass," Kelly said.

"They'll see just how unhinged Ted really is," Fred said. "It shouldn't take that long for him to show his true colors."


	3. Chapter 3

"Is there anything you would like to tell me about that little scrape you got into with General Fredric?" Madani said.

"He just doesn't like me," Ted said, grinning. Goddamn, was he feeling good. He couldn't wait until he got back in combat and feel even better.

_You and me both,_ the rampant Demeter said deep within his standard issued neural implant.

_Patience, Demeter,_ he thought.

_You need the patience more than I do._

_Help me out with that, will you?_

_I'll do the best I can._

"He seemed absolutely livid with you," Madani said.

"Just point me to where the fighting is thickest and let me do the rest," Ted smiled.

"Spoken like a true OMA."

"Oh-ma? Oh, a One Man Army."

"Exactly."

"I like that. Has a real nice ring to it."

They walked through a door into a shuttle bay. Inside were fifty Spartans, many of them advanced in age, waiting to leave for their ship.

_It's the old man squad, _Ted thought with a laugh. Demeter laughed with him.

"This is the OMAC you were told about," Madani said.

"General on deck!" Someone shouted. Every Spartan snapped a crisp salute, which Madani returned.

"Marcel, I've got another one for you," he said.

"Good, I was afraid we were getting undermanned." A Spartan walked forward. Ted could barely contain a chuckle. He was bald, but big and burley. He walked with a dignified lope, and Ted wondered how easily he could break his legs. Demeter calculated the psi needed. It seemed like a challenge. "What's your name, soldier?"

"Theodore, but you can call me Ted," he said, lazily saluting.

"Nice to meet you," Marcel said, retuning the salute. "Welcome to OMAC. We're always glad to have another one join us. Scuttlebutt says you're the first Spartan to be ranked hyper-lethal."

"That's what they say," Ted laughed.

"I'm looking forward to working with you. We have a lot of bad guys to kill."

"My favorite activity."

"Sounds like you're chomping at the bit to get going. That's good, we need that right now. I'm busy organizing our rosters right now, got a lot of Spartans joining us from cryo, so my partner Roma will get you settled in. Ask her anything."

"Will do, sir," Ted saluted as Marcel walked away. As if to replace him, a woman walked over. She was thin and tall, and seemed vaguely familiar to Ted. She had high cheekbones that seemed to tickle his memory.

"I'm Roma," the woman said in a very flat voice.

"Ted. Nice to meet you." They both saluted.

"I'll be getting you up to speed on everything you've missed," Roma said.

_There's something about her, _Ted thought. _Her eyes and voice don't seem right._

_She seems heavily medicated,_ Demeter said.

"You okay?" Ted asked. "You seem…out of it."

"It's my medication," Roma said. "I suffer from heightened aggression and an over-active limbic system. My medication placates me."

"I'm sorry."

"About my condition? There's no need."

"I mean about your medication."

Roma looked at him closely. Ted looked back.

"Once we get aboard our ship, I'll show you to your locker," Roma said. "Until then, sit tight for a shuttle to clear up."

* * *

"I'm sorry General Fredrick, I mean Fred, sir, General Fred sir, but General Madani was attending to his rank, he meant no disrespect," Mary said as they walked through the facility, towards the exit. More than a few personnel stopped to stare at them, Spartan and civilian alike. Fred hated it. He just wanted to be a soldier, not some famous general.

"It's nothing," he said. "I must have seemed very demanding that you lock up Ted."

"Why was that?" Tracy asked. "Why did you demand his arrest?"

"He's a psychopath," Kelly said. "Gets off on killing."

"A-and why would that not be on his file?" Mary asked.

"We never talked about Ted," Linda said. "No one did. He has a way of creeping you out. The only reason we didn't imprison him or otherwise lock him up was because we were short on personnel. We needed all the warm bodies we could get our hands on."

"I'll have to check with our doctors, but he seems to have passed all of our exams upon waking him up. He should be mentally and physically fine," Tracy said, reorganizing herself.

"We found out that it's almost impossible to test him," Fred said. "He likes leading us on when it comes to mental evaluations. Like all good psychopaths, he's smart."

"You're telling me he's a high-functioning sociopath?" Tracy said. "Forgive me, but that seems a little unlikely. He would have gotten flagged prior to training, especially if ONI were the ones running tests on him."

"ONI has been known to screw themselves over," Naomi said.

"Well, don't you worry, they still find a way to goof an op every now and then," Mary chuckled. It was a tight chuckle, like she was forcing it. "I mean, we do too, but not nearly as much as anyone else. We all have our bad days."

"So good to know that things haven't changed that much," Naomi said, rolling her eyes.

"We're not above messing up," Mary said, looking away.

"Quite right," Fred said, giving her a look. "Let's not talk about Ted. You'll see for yourself once the fighting starts. This 'oh-Mack' group you talk about is going to have their hands full."

"Please, they'll like it," Mary gave another tight laugh. "The OMAC has become kind of like rock stars with Spartans and a few civilians, just as famous as grav-ball players. They've adopted the Master Chief as their spiritual founder, and it's every Spartan's dream to be considered worthy to join the One Man Army Corp."

"By Master Chief, you mean John, right?" Kelly asked.

"Who else would I be talking about?"

"No, it's just weird. It's been over two hundred years since he's disappeared, and everyone still calls him THE Master Chief."

"He is the most famous Spartan," Tracy said. "And we've always worshipped heroes."

"True," Fred said. "If you don't mind me asking, you seem very tense. Are things that bad here?"

"What? Oh, no sir, it's nothing like that," Mary said, babbling. "Well, it is, but that's not why I'm nervous. I know we'll do fine against the Nations."

"Then why the nerves?" Kelly asked.

"It's…" Mary paused. "I just never thought I'd be chosen to be your aide. It's an honor that should be going to someone else, someone better than me…"

"Mary, you were chosen for a reason," Tracy said.

"Don't tell me people think they're not worthy to be around us," Naomi groaned. "We don't walk on sanctified ground, you know."

"No, no, it's not that," Mary stammered. "It's…" She took a deep breath. "I'm…I'm an alcoholic."

She blushed a deep, scarlet red as everyone stared at her.

"An alcoholic?" Linda asked.

"We're not above addiction," Mary stammered. "Some more than others. I…attended drill practice intoxicated and was busted down to corporal, reassigned to being an aide as punishment, no free time, always on rotation. But I've been clean and sober for one year, four months and seven days."

"Nearly as long as my operational life," Tracy added with pride.

"That seems a little harsh for a first-time offense," Fred said.

Mary mumbled something.

"Sorry?"

"That…wasn't my first time being changed with public intoxication," she repeated. "Only the last."

"I see."

"Mary is being too hard on herself," Tracy said. "She has—"

"Tracy," Mary snapped. "Please."

"Very well," the AI said.

"I don't mean to pry," Kelly said, "but is alcoholism a problem with Spartans here?"

"No more so than with the civilian population," Mary said. "There just so happen to be more civilians than Spartans."

"Addiction is a part of human genetics," Tracy said. "To turn it off would require extensive genetic engineering, and would have unforeseen side effects and genetic abnormalities, quite possibly catastrophic on scale."

"So it's just part of being human," Linda said. "Are there any other addictions on Sparta?"

"There is some…drug problems," Mary said.

Fred shifted uncomfortably.

"There have been a few problems with Spartans, but it hits the civilian population harder," she said. "Law enforcement has their hands full with catching them."

"Let me guess, Spartans run law enforcement, too."

"No, only military police. Civilians run the law enforcement offices."

"It is a bit of a misnomer to call them 'civilians,'" Tracy said. "They can volunteer for police and even military duties, such as navigation or ship management. There are plenty of civilian captains in the Spartan Navy. They're just called 'civilians' because they lack the augmentation."

"So Spartans don't have the numerical advantage in the military?" Linda asked.

"Depending on the military role. They're the infantry, of course, but also occupy a few support positions and officer rankings. Civilians are more assigned to ships and logistics."

"Interesting."

"Well, we're here. I'll show you around," Mary said. If it wasn't for his enhanced hearing, Fred would have missed it. She lead them out of the facility, into the bright day.

Fred could still see a few buildings that were around from his time, but many of them were new to him. There were large buildings everywhere, taller than any they ever built in their time as General of Sparta, but not nearly as tall as the skyscrapers that Fred had seen during the War back on Earth.

In front of them was a square field that Fred recognized as the training ground they made themselves. A few teams of trainees were running laps.

"Good to see you didn't change everything on us," Kelly said, pointing to the field as they walked by.

"It's the most prestigious training school in Sparta," Mary said. "No, that's not right. I mean, it's technically no different than any of the others, but it's still the first training school, so everyone believes it to be special."

"Spartan sentimental value," Linda smiled.

"Exactly. We were able to really start building when the economy took off."

"That's good," Fred said.

"A few weeks after you froze yourselves, a great gold seam was discovered to back the new currency," Tracy said.

"Lyn must have been proud."

"Lyn the AI?" Tracy said. "She was. If it wasn't for her, it would have taken longer to set up a real economy."

"And the marines just weren't having that," Mary said. "It was a good thing we found that gold seam. There were almost a few more marine uprisings, but with them having jobs and a real source of income, it helped calm them down."

"What happened with those?" Fred said.

Mary pointed ahead of them. They were walking by the parade ground with the statues of Mendez, Halsey and John when Fred saw a new statue. At least, to him it was new. The statue was showing its age, all the hard edges had been worn smooth, but Fred could see the face clearly. It was Lucy, and she was kneeling with a hand stretched out, as if to help the observer up to her level.

"Saint Lucy helped calm them."

"'Saint' Lucy?" Linda asked.

"No, no, no, not like that, she wasn't actually canonized, it was a nickname she got. Corporal Cameron probably knows her as Saint Lucy. The marines almost decided to stage another uprising when it was time for the second Tithe."

"Tithe?"

"That's…what we call the donation of genetic material. The marines came up with it. She was able to talk them down from the uprising, namely giving them benefits for each tithe."

"She paid them off?" Fred asked, eyebrow arching.

"Nothing like that," Mary said, gasping.

"Such an act would have pushed them over the edge," Tracy said. "The benefits were aimed at their children. It helped subsidize their education and living expenses. The marines were having trouble providing a specific type of lifestyle for their children, and an uprising was almost inevitable."

"They wanted to spoil their children," Mary said. "They wanted to make up for the children they lost. The subsidiaries really appealed to them, so they agreed to stand down. Set the foundation with future civilian relationships, as tense as they are."

"She made the marines like the donation?" Kelly said. Fred looked at her. She couldn't help but smile. "She did good."

"If only she got the civilians to willingly donate," Mary said. "The Tithe is still massively unpopular, and civilians still resist donating. They receive higher taxes and community service in lieu of prison time, but they still see it as a badge of honor.

"But Saint Lucy did more than stall an uprising. She pioneered mental health issues, such as shell-shock, sorry, PTSD, Survivor's Guilt and… addiction. If it wasn't for her, we would have missed treating dozens of Spartans in the first year alone. Rumor has it she talked those dozens of Spartans down from killing themselves."

"It was that bad?" Fred asked. "I don't remember it being that bad for us."

"With all due respect, sir, there is a difference of being a Spartan in war and a Spartan in peace," Mary said. "In war, you can push the feelings down, cover them up with adrenaline."

"For the record, I said that," Kelly said.

"Kelly…"

"But once you come home, or when the adrenaline wears off, you still have to deal with it. It was hard for Spartans; it is still hard."

"I can only imagine," Fred said. "We never had to deal with that in our time."

"Please, we never had time to deal with _anything_," Naomi said. Everyone nodded.

"It was always onto another mission, another theater of war," Linda said. "We were in high demand, and there was never enough of us. We just learned to deal with it."

"It became second nature."

"Well, again, with all due respect, ma'am, it worked for you, but it didn't work for us," Mary said. "We had down time, and it was hell on the first few Spartans. Saint Lucy set up mental wellness programs, and that saved as many lives as any physical doctor could."

"She did do good," Linda smiled.

"That she did," Mary smiled.

"I'm receiving word from General Madani," Tracy said. "The Sanghelli are ready to deploy their troops. It's time for us to go."

"Is there much more of Sparta to see?" Fred asked.

"Plenty. The city has expanded, we have multiple outposts over the planet, moon bases and the such," Mary said, back to her high-speed rambling.

"Good, we have something to look forward to when we get back," Fred said.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Anna asked.

Cameron looked at her partner. Anna's heavily scared face looked back at her. The ants raced up and down her skin. They seemed to be making up for lost time, almost one hundred and fifty years to be exact. Everything was wrong, just wrong!

"I'm out of it," she said. She had brushed her hair until every hair follicle was tingling from being pulled, scrubbed her skin almost until it bled, ironed her new uniform so crisply she didn't think that it would ever bend, and the ants still ran! It just seemed too much.

"You seem terribly out of it," Anna said. The ship they were on rumbled, and Cameron looked out of the window. They were in space, so fast and so easily. She liked this new technology.

"It's...the ants," she said. "I can't get them to stop. It feels like they're running a million miles an hour up and down my skin."

"Must be terrible," Anna said. She took her hand and held it tight. "Don't worry, we'll get through this. We always do."

Cameron nodded. No matter what was thrown at them, they always made it back to base, back to life, and she was sick of it. Just sick of it. Cameron missed Bridget, her first partner, who jumped on a suicidal grunt for her. Why did she do that? Why did Lucy stop her? Why did she let Lucy stop her, talk her down? Cameron just wanted it all to stop. She was tired of the ants, of coming back, of seeing who else died when she didn't.

"I'm sure of it," she mouthed. With any luck, she wasn't going to come back. And if luck wasn't on her side, she was ready to made it go her way.

* * *

"So this 'One Man Army Corp' is supposed to be a group of badasses, huh?" Ted asked as they walked through the ship. Roma seemed to hate it when he spoke with gusto, so of course he did as much as possible. At first he thought it was when he talked about killing, then about war in general, then it was about anything. So long as he spoke with enthusiasm, she seemed to hate it and get worked up. And since anything was better than her dull, flat, lifeless, medicated droll, he had to antagonize her.

_Are you trying to elicit a reaction from her?_ Demeter asked him.

_Yep! _He thought.

"That was the idea of the group," Roma said. "Create a platoon of individuals that could undertake the most dangerous missions available."

"And here I thought that's what was a Spartan's job description," Ted laughed. "Is that how much things have changed?"

Roma barely suppressed a shiver. Standing behind her, Ted could see her shake. That caused him to shiver himself. It had to do until he could get a blade and just _cut_ something.

_Don't tempt fate, _Demeter sighed. The very thought of him cutting made her do the AI equivalent of shivering. _I'm trying to hold you back so you don't arouse suspicion._

_You really are my better half._

_It takes the insane to know the insane._

"With the restructuring of Spartan squads, it was realized that it was not fair for each squad to undertake suicide missions or a regular basis. That's where OMAC comes in; our regular missions are suicide missions so other don't have to deal with the stress and the trauma of regularly going on such missions. And, given our skill set of being hyper-lethal, we are uniquely suited for it."

"Sounds like a glorified job of jumping on a grenade," Ted laughed. Roma shivered. Demeter sighed. Ted shook.

"Do you really wish to go into action that fast?"

"Of course. This just seems boring."

Ted laughed. Roma shivered. Demeter sighed. Ted shook. Roma opened the door to a locker room on the ship. Inside were fifty some-odd Spartans attending to oversized lockers.

"Here is our locker room on the ship," Roma said. "Yours is over there."

"How nice of you. You sure are thoughtful." Roma shivered and the process started all over again.

"Excuse me, but you're Ted, aren't you?" Ted looked over and a small Spartan walked up to him. She wore armor, but had something wrapped on her head.

"And you are?" Ted asked.

"My name is Lauryn," the Spartan said. "You must be the frozen one we were talking about. Welcome to the OMAC program!"

"What are you wearing?"

"Just a bonnet. I was doing some planting," Lauryn said.

"Sorry?"

"Ted, this is Lauryn," Roma said. "Lauryn, this is Ted, our mystery guest."

"I remember hearing about him," Lauryn said. Ted stared at the bonnet. It was a simple piece of fabric that barely extended over her brow, and had a floral pattern on it.

_A Spartan in a bonnet. Now I've seen everything, _Demeter laughed. _Oh, I _have_ to make a note of this._

_Shut up,_ Ted thought harshly.

"Why are you wearing that?" He said. All traces of his enthusiastic exterior evaporated. His mind spun. How should he act?

_Don't ask me, human behavior should never be trusted to a rampant AI, _Demeter said.

_Shut up! _Ted thought.

_Yes, sir._

"It's something I like to wear when I garden. Now, according to your very small record, you're hyper-lethal, too," Lauryn said.

"You read my record?"

"We all did. We're gonna be teammates! We better get to know all about each other!"

"So what's up with you?" Ted asked, trying not to gnash his teeth. "What are you doing?"

"I was working on planting some delicate plants," Lauryn said. "I'm a horticulture expert on my off-rotation, but I couldn't leave these little beauties alone, so I took them with me."

"Be careful, Lauryn likes cute things," Roma said.

"What?"

"We all have our quirks. I have my medication, Lauryn has her cute things."

"That and it helps me deal with trauma and stress," Lauryn said. "We all have to have our hobbies, and hobbies are important when it comes to mental health."

Ted looked over Lauryn's shoulder. There was an open locker that he could only assume was hers. There were stuffed animals hanging on the shelves, little plastic animals dangling from chains and lanyards, and stickers...the stickers. So many stickers.

_Now I really have seen everything, _Demeter said. _I should take notes. Maybe I can finally figure out how to calculate human oddities. _

_Shut up!_

_Yes, sir._

"See?" Lauryn had darted off to grab a potted plant. "Lily of the Valley. It hasn't taken to our soil very well, but I'm working on a different strain to adapt! Isn't it cute?"

"Lauryn, don't smother Ted." Ted thought he hated Roma's flat, neutral voice, but found it welcoming to Lauryn's insanity. "We need to get him and all the other frozen Spartans up to speed, brought into the group."

Ted's blood boiled. _This_ little bitch was supposed to be one of the elite? An elite that was supposed to be all about killing?

"They let you join this hyper-lethal squad?" He asked, voice taunt.

"Yep! I've got over two-hundred confirmed kills since joining," Lauryn said.

"Just two hundred? They really dropped their standards," Ted grinned.

The grin on Lauryn's face evaporated. A few other Spartans overheard, a given with their enhanced hearing, and turned to look.

"What?" Lauryn said.

"Ted, please," Roma said. He ignored her.

"I find it hard to believe that someone like you was chosen for an outfit like this," Ted said. "And I've only been awake for three hours."

"You must have a case of freezer burn, so I'll let this slide," Lauryn said.

"Or what?" Ted laughed. "You're gonna end me?"

"Yes. I swear, by my pretty floral bonnet, I will end you," Lauryn said, pointing for effect.

That was too much for Ted. He doubled over laughing, and Demeter laughed with him, a deep, belly bursting laughter. He truly doubled over when Lauryn slammed her fist deep into his gut. The new damn armor. They had to skimp on it, otherwise the punch would have done nothing to him. Instead it drove the wind from him, but Ted knew that it was on, and was ready to go.

He grabbed Lauryn's arm and pulled her forward as he fell backwards.

"Stand down!" Roma screamed, but Ted's blood was pumping. It was singing in his ears, and with Demeter amplifying everything, making it all louder and louder, it was all he could hear. He was finally scratching a deep itch.

He twisted as he fell, bringing the bitch closer to him. His elbow shot up towards her face. She had to turn her head to block it, and fell to the ground.

Ted was on her in less than a second. But she was a Spartan and defended herself expertly. Punches were blocked and countered, so he head-butted her. It made him moan as he felt her nose give beneath him. Demeter groaned with him. Then hands were pulling at him.

"I said stand down, dammit!" Some man said.

_That's your new superior,_ Demeter said, snapping out of her bloodlust.

_So?!_

_Oh, this is bad. Demeter, what have you done?_

_Shut up!_

_No, no, no, this is bad!_

"What is the damn meaning of this?" Marcel demanded. Ted realized four Spartans were holding him back.

"He antagonized me, sir," Lauryn said, spitting blood.

"So you start a fight?"

_We can make this work, _Demeter said.

_Why? _Ted demanded.

_They could stop up from fighting! Send us back to be frozen!_

That snapped Ted out of his mood. A fight now, or a chance to kill later? The choice was obvious. So he did his best to seem like he was snapped out of some mind-changing mood, which wasn't that far from the truth.

"No, sir, it was my fault," he said in his cool, composed voice. "I provoked her. I...I don't know why, I've just been feeling strange, nervous and penned up since they woke me."

"You think that that's an excuse to start a fight in my armory?" Marcel demanded.

"Ted _has_ been in cryo longer than anyone, including the Generals," Roma said from Lauryn's side. "This could be some side-effect that we missed."

"I was ranked hyper-lethal, sir," Ted said. "I didn't get that ranking by being nice to everyone. I'm ashamed to say that I stepped on a few toes in my time. But never like this, never out of the blue."

"Are you telling me you're unfit for duty?" Marcel asked.

_Oh, fuck you! I'll kill you and make you disappear! _Ted thought.

"No, sir," he said in his nice, composed voice. "Maybe I'm not fully woken up. With your permission, I'd like to report to sick bay, have them examine me. If they can find what's wrong with me, maybe they can use it on the Generals, help them before they need help."

Marcel stared at Ted. Lauryn did too, but he ignored her.

"Very well," he said. "Report to sick bay immediately. I won't take you back until they give you a clean bill of health."

"Thank you, sir," Ted said. "And Lauryn? I apologize. I don't know what came over me."

"I know exactly what came over you," Lauryn said. Blood dribbled from her nose and Ted had to really work to keep himself from laughing.

"Roma, escort him," Marcel said. "I don't want any more freezer burn fights."

"Yes, sir," Roma said, saluting. The arms holding Ted let go. "Let's get you to sick bay."

They left the room and walked down the halls of the ship.

"That has to be the first time I heard you raise you voice," Ted said.

"Are you still talking about my medication?" Roma said. "You know it sedates me."

"What happens when you're in a combat zone?" Ted asked. "You are part of this OMAC group. When do you get your hyper-lethal on?"

"I don't miss a dose."

"I bet you'll like missing a dose."

_Was that wise?_ Demeter asked.

_I know her, _Ted thought._ Just watch._

Roma looked at him and Ted held a straight face. She looked away.

"Sick bay is this way."


	4. Chapter 4

Spartan ships floated through the void. Naomi counted fifty of them. She had never seen that many ships in one place, not since the Human-Covenant War, and even then it was only at dock. The only time she saw fifty ships ready to do battle was when Reach fell. That was a bad day.

She looked around the bridge. Most of the personnel were civilian, but there were a few Spartans there, sitting in their armor, carrying out their duties, and there wasn't any pesky staring at them. It was all business as usual for the new Spartans and civilians. She hoped it was like that outside of combat, but from what Mary was telling them, it wasn't the case.

"This is really, really strange," she mumbled.

"We have to be the only four who think that way," Kelly said. Floating ahead of them was fifty Covenant ships. No, that was wrong, it was fifty Sangheili ships. They were different from the Covenant now. How was that for a strange thought?

"True," Naomi said. "Takes me back to my Kilo-Five days."

"Maybe you shouldn't say that out loud," Kelly said.

"It's a good idea." Might not be in their best diplomatic interest to admit that she had a hand in splitting the Covenant and splintering the Sangheili race.

"Generals, you know that we're allied with the Sangheili," Mary said meekly, "so take care not to make them angry. I know that old habits die hard, but the last thing we need is a diplomatic incident."

Naomi wished Mary could sound more sure of herself. She was a Spartan, dammit. She and Kelly turned away from the port window, back to their ship. They stood on the bridge with Fred, Linda, Mary, Madani and Tyler, surrounding a holographic table.

"We didn't train to be diplomats, so we'll just keep our mouths shut for right now," Fred said.

"A good idea, if you'll forgive me," Madani said.

"No offense was taken," Fred said. "Did they give you diplomat training?"

"Only after I was voted into my office," Madani said.

"You should have seen him before," Tyler said. "Spoke his mind whenever it suited him. He must've cleaned half the toilets on Sparta by graduation."

"If I may, how were you voted into office?" Kelly asked. "We left it as an appointed position. How did it change?"

"Fifteen years after you were put on ice," Tracy said, winking into existence, "the civilians started accusing us of building dynasties, falling prey to nepotism."

"Was it true?" Linda asked.

"There were a few cases of nepotism," Madani admitted. "Enough to make it troubling. So we knew we had to create a new system. Mars? Could you fill the Generals in?"

"Certainly," the AI said, joining the holographic book shelf. Mars at least chose a human-style avatar.

"Shaky on your history?" Kelly asked.

"Only my political history," Madani said. "Besides, Mars can explain our government better than I can."

"You don't know the system?"

"Not intricately."

"It was one of the ideas that came from the system re-design," Mars said. "The General of the Armies Office is a five-year position. And they vote on the man or woman who hates the post the most."

"I'm not sure I follow," Fred said.

"We put the person who hates the job in charge because they're more likely to do the job right," Madani said. "You were one of the greatest Generals we had, and you hated your job. Therefore, you did you best. Are we wrong?"

"They sure know you." A grin leaked out of Linda.

"So you rely on stewardship and civic duty to fill the role?" Fred groaned.

"M-more or less," Mary said.

"In the Spartan's experience, those who actively search for power generally cannot be trusted with it," Tracy added. "It is a popular saying that competency is its own punishment. And they all strive to be competent."

"We're kind of masochistic like that," Naomi said.

"That's one way of putting it," Kelly said.

"The number of times I've heard Madani complaining," Tyler sighed.

"Sir, the Shangheili delegates are arriving," Mars said.

"Show them in," Madani said.

"Don't worry, we'll play nice," Fred said. Naomi knew an order when she heard one, but that was okay. She could shut her mouth.

The doors to the bridge opened up and ten Eli–Sangheili walked in. They were just as big as Naomi remembered, but strangely enough, they weren't dressed in armor. Every one wore cloth suits, not even dress uniforms, a close-fitting inner business suit and a more flowing, ornamental robe on the outside. What was going on? Naomi rarely saw a Sangheili out of armor, even when she worked for Kilo-Five. They seemed strange, even more alien out of armor. Their backwards bending knees were hidden in cloth, and their arms were fully covered. Hell, they were completely covered in clothes. Net even their armor fully covered them, unless they were wearing armor rated for void activity.

"Thie, how has fortune found you?" Madani said, walking over to great the lead Sangheili.

"Aside from our current predicament, it has been most tame," the Sangheili Thie said. "What of your Spartan empire, Madani?"

"Steady as always. May I introduce you to our fabled founding Generals, Fredrick, Kelly, Linda and Naomi." Mary took two giant steps back as Madani turned to introduce them all. Naomi, meanwhile, felt her skin pull taunt and she did her best to not make a reach for her pistol. Old habits and all. "Generals, may I introduce you to Thie 'Mankkee, the elected leader of the Sangheili race."

"You are the wise leaders I have heard much about," Thie said. "It is an honor to meet you."

"The honor is ours," Fred said, nodding. Naomi could hear him working to keep his voice flat.

"You have been filled in on our situation, correct?" Thie asked.

"We have. The Covenant Nations are moving against both us humans and your people."

"Correct. Our fanatical cousins seek to exterminate us. They call us traitors and heretics, and they have the numbers to finish us all. I can only hope our combined military might is enough to end this threat once and for all. Is something the matter? You seemed perplexed."

The hinge-he-Sangheili was good at reading them, Naomi had to give him that. She'll let Fred do the talking; she was under orders to keep her mouth shut.

"My apologies, we're not used to seeing your species out of armor," Fred said.

"They've been frozen since the collapse of the Covenant," Madani said, coming to their verbal rescue. "They're far more used to seeing the old Sangheili."

"That's understandable," Thie said. "Your Spartans weren't the only one to undergo major changes. It was not easy to change our ways, but we have always overcome hardships, as we will now."

"That's good to hear," Fred said. "Please, don't waste time on us. You have a war to plan."

"We do," Thie said. "Madani, we've just got word from our spies. We know where the Covenant Nation is going to attack first."

"Did your spies make it back alive?" Madani asked.

"Only one. But their sacrifices will be honored. It should not surprise you to know that they are targeting Earth and Shanghelios."

"Just as expected," Madani said.

"If it were only those two planets," Thie said. "They also plan to re-take the Ark."

The atmosphere seemed to grow tense on the bridge. Naomi remembered hearing about the Ark, but it was such a long time ago. She would have surely forgot about it.

"They mean to fire the Halo arrays?" Madani said. "They want to wipe out all life in the galaxy?"

"Remember, they do not believe the Halo arrays will destroy life, they believe that it will make them gods," Thie said.

"Are they hitting all three at once?" Madani asked.

"As close to a simultaneous attack as possible. All three targets are very far apart, and coordinating an assault over such distance will be extremely hard. We believe that they will move against Earth and Shanghelios first, if only because the Ark is so far away."

"They can make assaults on all three targets? Sure are using their numbers to their advantage."

"They hopelessly outnumber us. It only makes sense to use every edge they can."

"This will require some finessing. Thank you for the intel. Any idea how much time we have until they attack?"

"Two days at the most."

"Not a lot of time to get into position. Did you alert the UNSC?"

"They were the first to know. The message should be getting to them any time now."

"Damn." Madani flipped through the holographic table. Naomi recognized star charts, namely where Earth was. He highlighted Earth, Shanghelios and the Ark. The three points formed a very obtuse triangle. "We're a special forces army; that means we don't have the numbers for major engagements. This will be hard to pull off, but we'll split our army into thirds. Each third will be protecting a planet and the instillation. Does that sound good?"

"As good as we can do with this short period of time," Thie said.

Naomi frowned. This seemed too clean. Orders be damned, she had a good idea.

"Excuse me, sir," she said. All eyes shifted to her. Mary seemed particularly stressed; probably wondering what gaffe she would let slip. "You said your spies died getting us this info?"

"They did," Thie said. "I must ask; why bring it up?"

"Because they may be plants," she said. "I worked with ONI for a good long while. It was a hundred some-odd years ago, sure, but I learned a few things. Just because intel is given to you doesn't mean it's good. What kind of odds were they looking at for getting that intel out?"

"It was a suicide mission."

"Then they shouldn't have gotten out alive. I still don't like that."

"What are you thinking?" Fred asked.

"They fed us intel, and they expect us to buy it just because people died getting it to us."

"What would they gain from that?" Madani asked. "They let us know where they plan to attack."

"Because it doesn't make sense to go for all three, even if they outnumber us," Naomi said. "They think that firing the Halo arrays will make them gods. Why bother with Earth and Shanghelios when you can be gods? That just don't sound right."

"You think they plan to draw us away from the Ark by attacking our home planets," Kelly said.

"That's exactly it. We'll have to defend them, sure, but we'll lose the Ark. And if we lose the Ark, well, we might as well drop our trousers bend over for them just to speed things up. Besides, they're ignoring multiple Inner Colonies and going right for the jugular."

"Equal parts colorful and coldly calculating, but her reasoning is sound," Mars said, appearing on the holographic table. "The Ark is a much more valuable target that both Earth and Shanghelios combined."

"You expect us to give up our home world without a fight? You are sorely mistaken," Thie said. Naomi nearly pulled her sidearm on him; the Eli—Shangeili reared up to his full height, and he was _pissed_. He might have been a civilian, but he still outweighed most humans by a hundred pounds. He wasn't the only one either. The other Shanieili (his guards? Advisors? None wore armor or a sidearm) bristled as well. And that was good. Peace time didn't dull their edge, and right now they needed that.

"Thie, easy," Madani said, standing between Thie and Naomi. "We're not telling you to abandon your world."

"Didn't expect you too, either," Naomi said through gritted teeth. Her heart was pounding, ready for action. "We're not going to give up Earth, either."

"Your accusations are more speculation," Thie said. "We will take no action to back them up."

"We need to consider the possibility that General Naomi is right," Tracy said. "We lose Earth or Shangheilos, life goes on. But if we lose the Ark, we lose everything."

"We will back no plan that leaves our home planet undefended," Thie roared.

"We won't propose it," Madani said. "How about a compromise? You maintain command of your armies and defend how you see fit. Meanwhile, we'll divide our army into fourths; one fourth for Earth, Shangheilos and the Ark, the last fourth will be at a point between the three objectives. Once we know where a bulk of the Covenant Nation armies are, the fourth will move in to provide support."

"How will that help?"

"All objectives will be secured," Fred said. "And it will take the guesswork out of predicting where a larger portion of the army will be attacking. It's the best thing we can go for."

"And the time it takes to travel to each planet?"

"We can have troops in position within a week," Mars said. "Assuming that they can get to the exact middle of all three objectives by the time the fighting starts."

"Stop referring them to objectives," Thie yelled. "They are planets, with lives to be saved!"

"How would each fourth fight against the army?" Kelly asked. "We'll be spreading ourselves too thin."

"We'll set each fourth up to go in heavy," Madani said. "Tanks, heavy weapons and sniper teams, EVA teams for boarding parties, the works. Make them play defense, delay the Covenant Nations until reinforcements arrive, have OMAC platoons do all our counter-offensive actions."

"And you'll throw your men away like so much tissue paper?" Thie sputtered.

"Spartans don't get thrown away like tissue paper," Madani said. "If it's our day to die, we'll make them fight for that kill. We're raised to fight in the worst spots, and we'll get out of them in one piece."

"This plan is a lost cause. You'll all throw your lives away for nothing, and we'll all fall with you."

"I'm a sucker for lost causes," Kelly grinned.

"They have a certain ring to them," Linda agreed.

"This plan offers minimal chance for success," Mars said. "There are too many unknowns to fully calculate."

"It aint't Spartan if it ain't hard." Damn near the whole bridge crew said it as one, even some of the civilians did. Naomi couldn't help but chuckle as the Shangeili jumped. Even Mary grinned.

"I would tell you that you're all mad, but I know you've heard that from everyone who ever talked to you," Thie said.

"Yes, sir," Madani said, smiling. "I believe you even called me that a few times."

"I'm sure I have," Thie said. "So that is your plan? Split your army into fourths?"

"It's the best plan we can come up with at the time."

"We won't endorse your plan. We _can't_ endorse your plan, we have too much to lose."

"We understand," Madani said. "We'll do what we do best. And thank you for the intel. It was a great help."

"I believe the human saying is 'Godpseed.'" Thie bowed and left the bridge. Naomi finally relaxed.

"Good find," Fred said.

"Hey, I could be wrong," Naomi said. "This Covenant Nation could be going for all three at once and I just royally screwed everyone over."

"We're all ready for the absolute worst," Madani said. "Between guessing where the armies will pop up and getting hopelessly overrun, this offers the best of both worlds, so we're going to go for it."

"I will tell the fleet," Mars said. "We only have two days to get everyone in position."

"We'll be cutting it close," Naomi said, looking at Linda and Kelly, waiting for them to finish the line.

"'Cutting it close' is in our job description," they chorused, along with every Spartan on the bridge. Naomi smiled. Goddamn, did it feel good to be back. Like she was with family.

* * *

Cameron's data pad chirped. Everyone's data pad chirped, and the firing range held enough Spartans to make the sound nearly deafening. It had to be their assignments.

"This must be it," Anna said, putting the brand new designated marksman rifle down. The strange thing shot hardened light, made the Covenant plasma guns seem quaint. But quaint was what Cameron knew, it was what the ants knew, and the ants compelled her to stick with good old fashioned gunpowder. She had a regular DMR, only marginally updated for the new times.

"It must be," she agreed. She gingerly set the DMR down and pulled out her data pad, the ants skittering and skirmishing across her skin. She had moisturized it so much she practically bled lotion, but that didn't stop the ants.

_Cameron-016,_

_Your platoon, 01-A60, is to be deployed to Earth upon the Argos. Wheels up at 1350, we're hitting the ground running._

"Earth, huh?" Cameron sighed. She didn't want to go anywhere, or do anything. It seemed easier to crawl back in her cryotube, even with the ants running on her skin.

"Wonder how many platoons of frozen Spartans they're sending out there," Anna said.

"I like 'the Old, Bold Riders' name. It has a ring to it."

"You just like ditching your old name."

"Wouldn't you?" The ants crawled. Cameron realized she was rubbing Bridget's dog tags again. She missed her first friend, her first partner. _Attrition Queen_. How could she have ever been proud of it? She was just messing things up, but never knew it.

"Please, my nickname is all over my face," Anna said, pointing to her scars. "Don't need a name when you have a visual reminder."

"We've been over this, you can get plastic surgery."

"We have been over this. It reminds me of my shortcomings, to keep an eye open."

Anna glared at her, and Cameron realized she was glaring back.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean anything."

"It's okay. Trauma has a way of popping up," Anna said. Cameron could only nod.

"Well, police these weapons," Cameron said. "I don't want to be stuck in line signing them in. We got a ship to catch."

* * *

The sniper rifle was laid out in front of Linda, fully disassembled and with extra modular parts. The stock, receiver, barrel, tripod, muzzle break and scope were all sitting on a very fine terrycloth blanket. The blanket was new; she could tell by the pristine whiteness of it. Of course, the oil from the gun parts were quickly staining it, but Linda didn't care. A little grease gave it character.

"Funny how we're going to the Shangheili home world," Naomi said. Linda was so engrossed in her rifle, she nearly forgot that she was in a crowded locker room. She blamed her Zen meditations.

"Why?" She asked. "Were you holding out for Earth?"

"Kind of was," Naomi admitted. "It's just that we spent so much time fighting them, and now we're helping them. Everything comes full circle."

"Better get used to it," Kelly said.

"I'll get used to it faster than I'm getting used to these new 'hard light' weapons."

"Gunpowder's good for me, thanks," Linda said. She grabbed the heavy duty stock and weighted it, passed it from hand to hand. It was nice and heavy; it would absorb plenty of recoil. She picket it over the lightweight stock.

"They look pretty," Kelly said. "All nice, sharp human angles and edges, nothing like the smooth rounds of a Covvie rifle."

"What's funny is that smooth, round corners are supposed to represent women," Fred said. "And you're complaining about it."

"Never really liked pink," Kelly grinned. Linda and everyone snorted. She picked up the receiver and looked at it, compared it to the other option she had. One was overbored and heavier, the other was the stock receiver and lighter. If she went with an overbored receiver, she could chamber bigger, heavier rounds, use them to punch through solid steel and concrete, but the rounds would take up more space in a magazine, weigh her down. She could carry more rounds if they were lighter. But if she still had ammo left, that meant she didn't do her job right. Linda attached the heavier overbored receiver.

"Don't worry, the hinge-Shangheili were real big on royal purple when I was there," Naomi said.

"And how long ago was that?"

"Point."

"What is everyone taking?" Fred asked. "Gunpowder?"

"I'm trying out the new hard light assault rifle," Kelly said. "Seems to be lighter, keep me moving better."

"That suits you," Linda said. Because she chose an overbored receiver, she had to go with the overbored barrel. The gun was getting a little heavy, but the rounds she would be shooting were twice as heavy as the standard rounds. She even had the option to shoot depleted uranium rounds, which she was itching to try out. She slapped on a big tripod to help steady herself.

"I say stick with what we know," Fred said. "If that fancy thing breaks in the field, it'll be a fancy paperweight."

"Says here its rugged and seen four deployments," Kelly said, holding up the owner's manual.

"And now you're trusting a pamphlet?" Naomi grinned.

"Alright, you got me, it just looks fancy," Kelly sighed.

"We have to keep you honest," Linda said. She looked at the scopes. The standard one offered her high powered zoom and night vision, which is what she was used to. But the other one offered her something called 'Promethean vision,' and it offered her not only a kind of night vision, but limited x-ray potential as well. It was a battery drain, taking one shield to barely power and two to fully power, but if she had to worry about her shields, the enemy was too close and she wasn't doing her job. She took the Promethean vision scope, clicking it on place.

"And our old friends got their FOF tags in place?" Fred asked.

"Thie said they'll show up as friendly on our suits," Naomi said.

"Good. Last thing we want is some friendly fire."

"'Only you could prevent friendly fire,'" Naomi said, actually laughing. "Oh man, remember when Mendez taught us that one?"

"Poor Yellow team," Kelly grinned. "Those paintballs had to hurt. Point blank."

Linda laughed herself. The thought took her back to Reach. Of course, they really didn't try to prevent friendly fire; Yellow team stole their lunch the day before. It was more revenge. She held the muzzle breaks in her hand. One offered better recoil dampening, but couldn't eliminate the vapor trail. One did, but offered next to no breaking and sound dampening. The third blocked a vapor trail and suppressed the sound to a degree, but was terrible at recoil reduction. Linda figured that with her heavier rifle, she could skimp on the break. Besides, she had to keep her location a secret. She picked the third option.

Everything slid together with a click and a spin. She had her rifle, and they were going to a place where she could work her magic all day long.

* * *

"The Ark? You mean the Ark of the Covenant?" Ted chuckled.

_I'm surprised you made that connection,_ Demeter said.

_I'm full of surprises,_ Ted thought.

_You _are_._

"No, just 'the Ark,'" Roma said, closing her locker door. "Be glad that I'm stuck babysitting you. We don't need another fight."

"You're not babysitting me, you're getting me up to speed, remember?" Ted smiled. Roma ignored him. "You taking plenty of medication? I don't want to miss your placated voice."

"I have dosages set up," Roma said. "I won't be missing any."

"Drat. You'll miss the fun," Ted sighed. "What about cute girl? She coming with us?"

"Given how you provoked a fight, Marcel decided to grant her request to fight on Earth," Roma said.

"She'll miss all the fun."


	5. Chapter 5

It was strange being on a human ship that seemed more alien than the Covenant ships used to be. There were no spinning sections, just the strange gravity generators that the Covenant used to have. The bulkheads were more doorways and less like bulkheads, even the larger ones, and the superstructure was hidden, or at least the hallways were planned around it. It almost didn't seem human, but then, Cameron grew up with ships that were less elegant than this.

She wanted to pace the cargo hold, just do something to get the ants to slow down, but she was just so tired. It was an effort to stand up, or to pick up her rifle, or to do anything. Forget her cryotube, she just wanted to lie down, even if the ants kept scurrying over her skin like they were trying to dig into her body.

But with her newly-granted rank of honorary squad leader, she had to set an example. Squad leader. She hated being squad leader, even if it was an 'honorary' title to avoid cluttering up the chain of command. She had sacrificed too many people to die, seen to many of them die herself, for her to ever want her old position back. But competency was its own punishment, and since she hadn't screwed up for the longest time, here she was again. But she would screw it up; she'll get everyone killed, and then she'll have to carry Anna's dog tags around with Bridget's. She hated it.

Anna opened a private comm line with her.

_How are you doing? _She asked.

_Not good. The ants just keep on crawling._

_Think it's a side effect of being on ice so long?_

_I don't know, and I really don't care. I just want it to stop._

_I'd like to say I can sympathize, but the most I can do is bitch about my leg._

Cameron looked at Anna's leg. It got blown off from the knee down during Circumstances, the First Battle of Circumstances as everyone around them knew it, when Anna lead the boarding parties to reclaim the skies. Cameron felt responsible; she had ordered Anna to take the ships. Just another way she fucked up.

_How is it?_

_Aside from the phantom pain, pretty damn good_._ Gave me a big upgrade. It's like I'm wearing nothing at all._

Cameron grinned. Some of the smaller armor segments hid the leg, but if she looked at it for more than a second, she could see that it was a fake leg. How did the Spartans these days fight wars with these suits? There was hardly any armor protection at all.

_Any change in our ETA? _She asked.

_Still supposed to be there in three hours, _Anna said. She caught Cameron's tone of voice._ You okay?_

_Jumping into where the fighting will be thickest, it…it just takes me back to Circumstances,_ she said.

_It's your fault for coming up with a good plan,_ Anna said. _There's too much area to cover and too few of us. We have to pick the best areas and bolster defenses. _

Anna reached out and grabbed Cameron's arm.

_It's okay. We'll get out of this. We always do._

Not if Cameron had anything to say about it.

* * *

_We're leaving Slipspace, _the rampant Demeter said.

_Aw, hell yea, let's go! _Ted cheered.

The drop pod shot out of the ship. Maybe it was a trick of his mind, or maybe it was being frozen in a pod for the last hundred plus years, but it seemed that the drop pods they used now were more powerful than the ones he last used. Either way, it made for a good trip. Ted whooped and hollered.

_Hey, Roma, you liking this? _He shouted.

_It may not be the best idea to provoke her, _Demeter said, laughing despite herself.

_Eh, whatever._

Roma took a deep breath and willed herself to be calmer with Ted. She had to give him the benefit of the doubt; he was frozen longer than almost anyone, something had to have snapped in his head. All he needed as some good action, get all of the pent-up aggression out of his system, and he'll be right as rain.

She knew this because she suffered from a similar psychosis. All of the hyper-lethal Spartans were similar; they all needed some action to make things right with them. Once Ted got some kills under his belt, he should become normal like the rest of them. Her drop pod rattled, and she took extra care to make sure that the her anti-psychosis pill made it to her mouth and not anywhere else. She then secured her helmet and waited for the drop pod to make contact with the Ark.

* * *

"Well now, this is interesting," Naomi said.

Shangellios hung in space, looking very much like Earth. Then again, maybe all planets that supported life looked alike. She didn't know, she wasn't in the business of categorizing planets.

"We actually beat the Covenant Nations here?" Mary said. "This is really strange."

"Mary is right, it is assumed that the Covenant Nations would have beaten us here," Tracy said. "Maybe they have taken their time?"

"Whatever reasons, we need to count our blessings that we got here first," Fred said. "Madani, what is your feeling on this?"

"My feelings?" Madani asked.

"Yes, your feelings," Fred said. "What's your read on this?"

"Forgive me, but no one really asks me for my feelings on an op."

"I need some read on this op," Fred said. "Back in my time, we had a friend, Kirk, and he had this uncanny ability to sniff out trouble."

"You want me to act as some kind of oracle?"

"I just want your opinion," Fred said, sighing. Madani might be smart, but he couldn't be very helpful at times.

"I believe the General wants to know your input on the current pace of events," Tracy said.

"Well, sir, if you want my opinion, I have to agree with you. It is strange that the Covenant Nations didn't beat us here, but beggars can't be choosers. The Nations gave us a chance to turn the tides, so we have to take it."

"Never look a gift horse in the mouth," Fred sighed. "Maybe I'm just old-school, but I would've preferred the Nations coming here first. Now let's get down there and shore up the defensive lines."

* * *

Cameron couldn't remember the last time she was on Earth. She had to be no more than six, when ONI talked her alcoholic father into relinquishing his legal guardianship over her. Maybe it was for the best; she remembered reading that children take after parents, and she didn't want to be an alcoholic. Whatever the reasons, she was here now, and had to pay attention to everything. That included the fight that was brewing between the Spartan officers and the UNSC forces. She had to force herself to listen, to stand, to not curl up in a ball. The ants kept crawling.

"We don't need your help!" The UNSC general screamed. He had a pot belly, was clearly out of shape, but did so much screaming she knew that Mendez would've been proud, wherever he was now. He stood flanked by Spartan-IVs, which was a surprise for her. "We have our own special operations forces, and you'll just be gumming up the works!"

"Sir, I need you to remain calm," Crumb, the Spartan field general said. His voice was just as calm and composed as he was. "The Covenant Nations is coming soon, and frankly, you need all the help that you can get."

"Shove that help up your ass," the general growled. "I should arrest you here and now for violating the human rights charter!"

"Sir, we both know that the Covenant Nations has enough manpower to wipe us all out," Crumb replied. "This is mutually beneficial. We need to put old grievances past us—"

"Grievances? You sick bastards experiment on children!"

_So good to know the UNSC still hates us, _Anna said on their private comm.

_Some things never change,_ Cameron said. Her arm twitched and it took nearly all her willpower to not move. But it hurt to stand at attention. _You think the Spartan-IVs still hate us? _

_Hard to say. I'm not feeling the stink eye on us, but they're in armor, too._

Cameron looked at the Spartan-IVs. They looked worn out just standing next to the general; their shoulders were slumped and were shifting feet to feet. But body language could be deceiving. They could be staying relaxed while they waited for the kill order. She looked around at the busy metropolis of Sydney. There could be snipers everywhere, just waiting to roll out the welcome mat. It sounded like a nice, quick way to go.

_Let's hope pragmatism wins out on this one._

* * *

Before the rise of the Sangheili, Sanghelios was a Forerunner planet, or at the very least an outpost. The Forerunners had built many things on the planet: buildings, irrigation canals, bridges and even subterranean structures. Having perceived the Forerunners as gods, the Sangheili had done little innovation on their own; their own buildings heavily resembled Forerunner structures, because they were everywhere and mimicking was easier than innovation. Even with that fact in mind, it was still strange for Fred to see Forerunner-esque buildings stretch across the horizon. It reminded him of Onyx instillation.

"It's pretty, I'll give it that," he said.

"I'm sure the Sangheili would appreciate that, sir," Mary said. The tiny Spartan hardly left their sides, which was both a boon and a source of annoyance for Fred. It was nice to have her and Tracy on hand whenever he needed help understanding the political climate, but was a little worrying, too. Didn't she have combat duties to attend to? Or was she expected to jump on a grenade for them as well?

"Have we gotten word from the fleet?" He asked again.

"No, sir," Tracy said from the data slate that Mary carried. "There have been no Slipspace anomalies detected since we touched down eighteen hours ago."

"I don't like this," Kelly said. At the two hour mark, she took to pacing, and hadn't let up since. "They should have gotten here by now."

"I-it really is strange." Did Mary always stutter? She needed to grow a backbone. Fred wondered if he was getting ornery. "The Covenant Nations never once hesitated to attack."

"So they've finally gotten smart," Naomi said. "I think my plan just got a lot of people killed."

"General Naomi, the first shot hasn't been fired yet," Tracy said.

"Cut the rank. It's honorary anyways."

"Yes, ma'am."

"But, but we've got time to set up," Mary said. "We've shored up defenses, laid groundwork and defensive parameters. That would make the attacking us even more cost-prohibitive for the Nations, right?"

Suddenly it felt that ice was dumped down Fred's back. He turned to Kelly. She was already looking at him, Linda and Naomi.

"Right?" Mary said weakly. "Generals?"

"Dammit, why didn't we think of that?" Linda hissed.

"Tracy, get Madani on the line," Fred snapped, causing Mary to fumble with the data pad. She caught it in a slit second, of course. "Highest priority."

"Contacting him right now," the AI said. "What shall I tell him?"

"Tell him to look for any kind of small, Slipspace probes in orbit, and to get our forces to mobilize. We need to be able to move at the slightest moment."

"And abandon our defense lines?" Mary asked.

"Of course," Linda said. "They were waiting for us to make the first move. Now they'll just go around us."

* * *

"What a bitch!" Ted growled. He twisted the throttle for the updated, thoroughly modernized Mongoose. Instead of having wheels, it rode on gravity pods and was powered by a jet engine. He should've been enjoying it more, but the fucking hinge-heads had postponed his fun. "What a goddamn. Fuck-mothering. BITCH!"

_Sounds like you're enjoying yourself, _Roma said from her own Mongoose.

Ted whipped his head around to growl at her. It sounded like she was enjoying their run across Instillation 00. Should've know that she'd be listening to his open channel. Serves him right.

_You do insist on having an open channel, _Demeter reminded him.

_Shut up!_

"Where are those fucking Covvies?" He demanded. He was riding in front of the OMAC column, or as close to it as he could. All the SPARTANS were hyper-lethal and wanted to get to fighting almost as much as he did. Almost.

_They're massing on Arms 1, 2, 4 and 8, bypassing our static defenses, _Roma said. _Squads Delta through Foxtrot have already moved to engage. _

Ted hissed. They were getting all the fun, dammit. He looked up at the sky, or as close to a sky as an artificially made world could have. There were flashed of light from plasma weapons, MAC guns and ships exploding. All the fucking orbital guns and ships were having fun, why wasn't he?

_They were waiting for this, you know, _Demeter said. _They wanted us to rush in and set up positions. _

_Shut up._

_Ingenious, really._

_Shut up!_

He twisted the throttle more, trying to get more speed from the piece of shit. They still had forty kilometers to go, and each second was eating away at him. His heart pounded for action, his blood sang with violence, but he just couldn't scratch that itch. His death was out there, dammit, and some lucky fucker was having his way with her!

_You need to calm down, _Roma said. Even under pressure her voice never wavered. It grated on Ted's nerves something awful. _We'll get there with enough missions to go around._

_But we're not there _now_, dammit!_

Roma watched Ted pound the Mongoose in a futile gesture. There was something about him that put her in the wrong mood, like her meds were wearing off. But she couldn't put her finger on it, and it was killing her. Roma wanted to know what this feeling about Ted was.

* * *

Cameron watched the holo-display with awe. Covenant Nations suicide ships were diving at the orbiting guns. The Super MAC canons and Super Linear Accelerated Plasma guns shot at them, but the ships were so small and numerous, they were overwhelmed. It tickled the ants to think of the guns as 'smack' and 'slap' canons, but it was both hard to laugh when one, the size of a cruiser, would explode, and also because she just didn't want to laugh, or make herself feel better. Never mind that the cannons were being blown up with frightening regularity.

"I should have seen that coming," she said. _You fucked up. You finally fucked up big time,_ she thought. Her eyes glazed as she looked at the screen; it was easier to just ignore all of it.

"They're flanking us, completely avoiding all of our defense lines," Anna said with awe. "Smart. Even if their LZs and AOs are nowhere near anything important."

"We all knew the area of operations would change," Cameron said. "But never like this." She felt like crying; it was like the Covenant had already won, and this whole thing was just a mop up op.

But the ants crawled at her, demanding that she move. There was work to do; they were needed. She wanted to just drop down and let the Covenant get their kill, but she was squad leader. She accessed her squad's com line. _Squad, pack up! Our AO is changing, and we needed to be there ten minutes ago!_

She stormed out of the pre-fabricated lounge. It took all of her conscious efforts to do that one simple task; it felt like she was moving through concrete. Outside the tent was chaos. With UNSC forces entrenching themselves, there were thousands, hundreds of thousands of soldiers waiting for Covenant Nation forces to drop in. But with new theaters of war opening, they were all working to pack up as fast as possible. Marines were running around by the dozens, and the Spartan-IVs seemed to be swamped as well, torn between helping other IVs or helping the marines.

Her Spartans, however, were handling the sudden change with practiced grace. Of course, they weren't part of the UNSC's supply line, and thus avoided most of the cluster fuck that was spiraling out of control. With so little placed upon them, they focused on getting their own gear stowed away. They were already forming a line to the drop ships, handing crates of weapons, ammunition, food and supplies from one to the other. She joined one, Anna at her shoulder.

"Pilots, sound off."

_Pelicans reporting in, ma'am,_ the lead pilot said. _We're starting pre-flight warm-ups. Wheels will be up inside ten minutes._

_Hear that, Spartans? We got ten minutes to get our boots off the ground. Double time it! Pilots, link me in with flight control._

Her armor registered a change in frequencies, and she was soon connected with the flight channel. Her armor recognized significant slowdown.

_This is Flight Tower A0-2,_ a frantic man said. _Who is this and why are you spamming the channel?_

_This is Sierra Zero-One-Six,_ Cameron said. She hoped the 'Sierra' call sign hadn't been hijacked by the Spartan-IVs. _I have four Pelicans under my command. We're requesting priority airspace in ten minutes, we're leaving the base._

_Where the hell to? _

_To where the Nations are making their LZ, that's what. Sources say they're attacking northern bases, correct?_

_Yea, that's right, _the man hissed._ We've got a spaceport in Mongolia that's getting swamped with drop pods._

_Then that's where we're going,_ Cameron said. She braced herself and accepted an ammunition box that was the size of her. She played with her suit, drawing one bar of shields and diverting it to the servos. Suddenly the box got lighter, almost by a full half. She handed it off to Anna, who accepted it with a grace that meant she was already toggling with her suit's strength.

_Sierra, they're getting overwhelmed, and that's before the hour flight to get there._

_It ain't Spartan if it ain't hard,_ Cameron mumbled. She still wanted to cry. _Get us clearance to get out of here, no one else seems ready._

_Working on it,_ he sighed. _Got it. You better haul ass, Spartan. Your window opens in seven minutes and closes in ten. We got a lot of traffic to sort through. _

_Roger that. Thanks for the assist._ She killed the com line and switched back to her squad's line. _Get a move on, Spartans! Wheels up in seven, with or without you!_

_Just like old times, huh?_ Anna chuckled.

Just like old times that Cameron didn't want to get through again. She wondered why she wasn't crying.

* * *

"What did I say?" Salvis chuckled.

'Ful stared at the holotank. Their forces were advancing almost completely unopposed. And this was only at the holy Ark. Slipspace reports were slowly filtering in, but they all looked promising. The humans and heretics were abandoning their hastily constructed defense lines to counter their new assault, defense lines that were only built at their most populated cities or strategically important sites with the thought that they will be attacking soon.

Most of their casualties, no, nearly all of their casualties were coming from ship-to-ship combat, but that was expected; their losses were built into their projections. It was all going according to plan, Salvis' plan. The wisdom of the Forerunners was shining down upon them.

"If I have doubted you before, I am not now," he said.

"That is one big 'if,' my dear manager," Salvis chuckled. "Drawn to a sudden sale, the masses rush in with no buying plan of their own. And once they are inside our store, they are our playthings. See how they scurry about, latching from one item to the next?"

"I see it," he said.

"Oh, most Holy of Artifacts," Truth said from his throne, "you speak with the wisdom of the Forerunners."

"No need to thank me yet, this is only the first step in my plan."

'Ful grinned. He was itching to go into battle, as his honor demanded. But honor was his for the taking at the general's chair, even if his sword arm ached. He would start the Great Journey, and his name will be echoed through the annals of history.

"Yes, the battle is only just beginning," he said. "Show us the wisdom the Forerunners had granted you, and lead us to victory!"

Salvis chuckled.

"Oh, don't worry about that. Just be glad we found the Ark before the Flood. They need to be stopped at all costs."


	6. Chapter 6

_Twenty minutes out,_ the pilot said.

Cameron gripped her DMR tighter. She couldn't believe she was jumping back into the thick of it again. She should have expected it when she volunteered to be frozen, but she was secretly hoping that she would remain frozen forever, never to be woken again, hopefully forgotten. But that just wasn't in the cards for a Spartan.

_You ready?_ Anna asked.

_Not really._

_It's a good plan._

Cameron didn't mention that the last time she had a good plan, it got forty-five men and women killed.

She made her hand pull up the holographic image of the spaceport they were flying to. How could she be so tired but still have the energy to move? The base was surrounded by the steppes of Mongolia, with plenty of wide open areas. Snipers would make quick work of them, but have a hard time with their limited elevation, which worked for and against them. The main administrative building was under heavy assault, pinned down on all sides, so that was their first stop.

_Get this through your heads, Spartans,_ she said, getting up with a burst of willpower. She only knew Anna; all the others were frozen, just like they were. The Old, Bold Riders. The only thing they had in common was their training, augmentation, and age at which they were frozen. But they were still Spartans, and with only two standard days, had learned to work together. That quick bond would be put to the test now. The ants crawled, itching at her and not stopping. She set the hydrostatic gel layer to give her a kind of massage, just to clear her head.

_The spaceport is about to be overrun by Covenant Nation forces, _she said._ Our ships will drop us as close to the main building, than we fight our way in, secure the control tower and repel any attempts to retake it. Questions?_

_Ma'am, how soon can we expect backup to arrive?_

_We _are_ the backup. _

_I was under the assumption that OMAC would be carrying out all counter-offensive actions._

_Plans don't survive first contact with the enemy, Spartan. You should know better, _Cameron said. _Spaceports are vital pieces of real estate, no matter how small they are. If we can maintain any measure of air superiority, we'll maintain control of the ground. That means we can't let the Nations get their hands on it, or run a torch-and-burn op. If OMAC wants to join us, they'll be late to the party. _

_What should we do with the Pelicans?_

_They'll remain on station and provide us with as much firepower as they can. Once they've been shot down, the pilots will be joining us. Any others?_

_No, ma'am._

_Good, _Cameron said.

_Ground in five!_

_Get on the ready line. And remember, Spartans never die. _

Cameron loaded her DMR and lined up to be the first one out. She switched her comm channel to the UNSC standard.

_UNSC spaceport, this is Sierra Zero-One-Six. We're here to provide backup._

_Thank fucking god!_ Someone screamed. With so much fire in the background, Cameron couldn't tell who was talking. _The UNSC sent you?_

_Negative, we're Spartan-Vs. What's your status? Are there any enemies in the base?_

_They're all over the goddamn base!_

_Have they breached yet?_

_No, but they've been working on it._

_All we need to know. Sit tight, we'll get you out of there._

_We'd like it if you hurried!_

Cameron looked out of the drop ship. There were waves upon waves of Covenant. Just like Circumstances. She shook her head. This wasn't the time for a flashback. Not now. The ship spun around and the ramp dropped.

_Touchdown! Hit it, Spartans! _But Cameron already jumped out.

It was worse than Circumstances. At least then they caught the Covenant off-guard. These Covenant were fully engaged, and easily switched from the UNSC forces to them. Cameron ran forward to a concrete road block, moving more out of muscle memory than actual willpower. It was like running through a laser show. Her shields didn't just spark from random shots, it shone clear and solid as she took hits left and right. If she was wearing her old armor, she wouldn't have survived two seconds. Instead, two of her four shield layers winked out of existence, and her suit blazed a warning.

She ignored it and took cover, popping up to empty her magazine. Grunts and Jackals fell, but they were hardly missed. More of her Spartans found cover and started taking up firing positions.

_Don't get comfortable, Spartans! We need to move up and get to the building. Pelicans, some cover fire would be nice._

_Firing._

The drop ship's hardlight turrets spooled up and started raining death. Elites and Brutes alike found cover as their shields sparked off. Cameron noted that they were old energy shields and not their hardlight shields; her DMR punched clear through one, splattering the Elite's brains over his companions. That was good, it gave them an edge, buy them some time to live. The ants paused as she shot. It was tempting to lie down.

_Good enough. UNSC forces, we're incoming._

Her suit was recharging the depleted third layer of shields, which had yet to pop into existence, but Cameron vaulted over the barricade. She took more shots as she advanced, letting her Spartans get ahead of her while she brought up the rear.

Ahead, the doors to the base opened, and the embattled marines stepped out to help drive the Covenant back. Cameron saw one take a plasma round to the face, and was shocked to see that the marines had energy shields.

"When did the marines get those to play with?" Anna asked.

"What? We've had them for years! Where have you been?"

"Frozen for the past 150," Anna said.

"Are you kidding me?" The marine spat.

"Not the time," Cameron said, getting to the door. Her third layer was shot back down, and was slow to recharge. She kind of missed her old suit's quicker recharge. "Get inside those doors."

The Covenant pushed back as they cleared the door, marines and Spartans taking cover on either side. Cameron put another two Elites down.

"Who's your CO?" She asked.

"CO got fragged, I hold rank," A lieutenant said. "Nickels. Nice to see some friendly faces, even if you are inhuman monsters."

"It seems our reputation precedes us," Anna said drily.

"Politics can wait, we're here to help you," Cameron said. "Have you gotten word from the UNSC on reinforcements?"

"Vack them, this cockeyed invasion got everyone's nuts in a wind."

_Seems like some now slang popped up, too, _Anna said on their comm.

"Try to get ahold of them, we'll work on getting our side to dedicates troops to us," Cameron said.

"Well, tell them they'd haul ass, the vacking Nations are burning the base."

"How much have they torched?" A line of jackals went down, exposing a rank of grunts. They went down soon, but not before pitching grenades. One landed near Cameron, but she didn't try to dodge. She was thrown against the wall with a crack that she was sure had dislocate her shoulder, but her shields held, with half of the last bar still remaining. Her suit screamed at her to find cover, so she silenced the alarm.

"What is your damn glitch?" Nickels yelled.

"How much of the base have they burned?" Cameron repeated, slapping in a new mag.

"At least half, they're working on getting the fuel depot."

_Pelicans, lay down some fire. Break into fire teams. Alpha and Beta, with me. Charlie and Delta, reinforce the base and get ready to provide some fire for us, _she ordered. Acknowledgement lights winked on, and the comm broke up to the appropriate channels.

"Half of my men will reinforce the base, we'll work on securing the fuel depot," she said. "Give us the location."

"And kill yourselves? Nickels demanded.

"Didn't you know? Spartans never die." Her shields were working to bring one layer back up, but it would have to do. Cameron led her men back outside, gunning down Covenant as they went. Most of her fire teams had human plasma rifles, so any Elite and Brute they found with a shield quickly lost it.

_Be careful, won't you?_ Anna demanded.

_Just keep up, we need this base,_ Cameron said. _Stick to cover and move forward. _

Her HUD registered a UNSC file being sent to her. She opened it and the location of the fuel depot popped up. It was on the far side of the base. They had lots of space to cover. Her suit grabbed a comm channel directed at her.

_I got a few gals out there, trying to hold them back,_ Nickels said. _If you get them out safe, I just might stick my neck out for you._

_Roger that. Hear that, Spartans? We got UNSC personnel in need of help. Double time it!_

The Pelicans floated overhead, spitting fire and missiles. Cameron took cover again, if only to reload. Her suit was doing its best to regen the lost shields, and had actually gotten two of them up by the time the Covenant got their counter attack organized.

Grunts charged ahead, propelled by whatever religious mania or promises of riches they were fed. They fell from grenades and missiles, but bought time for a group of Elites to circle around. They took fire from not only Cameron, but from the upper observation levels of the base; her Spartans were in position.

Cameron saw her chance to move up to a line of crates, so she took it. Her second layer of shields was whittled down to half by the time her third was charged. Instead of the third layer popping into existence, her suit dumped the charge into the second layer and went back to working on the third. She slapped a fresh magazine in place just as he bodies of three grunts hit the ground.

She got to cover as her shields kept taking hits. They were too damn strong.

_Actual, take cover, _Anna barked. She was using her title; that meant she was both angry at her, and on an open channel. She ignored her and worked on thinning the opposition. She was running low on ammo. Soon she'll have to risk grabbing whatever Covvie weapons were available to her.

_Hunters!_

The crate was blown over with an explosion. Cameron was very nearly crushed, but her suit automatically amped her strength to deflecting the crate; she pushed it off her and stumbled back into whatever protection they offered, if only out of reflex.

She shook her head clear; her ears were ringing. The crate took the full brunt of the fuel rod round.

_Take those things out, _she said, throwing a grenade. It didn't do much, but it made her feel like she was doing something. Her shields finally got the third layer up and running, so it was a good enough time to move forward. _Covering fire!_

The Hunters hid behind their thick metal shields, and Cameron ran around them, pulling out her pistol. One Pelican tried to help out by strafing a line of grunts and jackals. She pumped the third shield layer into her servos; she shot forward, just ahead of the fire she drew. By then, she was around the Hunters.

Her pistol was equipped with a fully automatic firing system, so she barely had to aim. Her first shot was a miss, but she was quick to compensate. The rest of the clip hit one Hunter, splattering orange blood everywhere. It started to turn around, so she darted in, tossing her last grenade at its partner. It scored a direct hit, and the Hunter moaned.

Being so close to the Hunter that she could smell it through her suit, she swapped magazines. The Hunter actually jumped, surprised that she got so close so fast. It tried to smash her with its shield. Cameron casually stepped to the side, spraying bullets in its face. The Hunter stumbled backwards, and the rest of her team filled it with lead and plasma.

_Actual! Look out!_

The second Hunter had its' canon leveled at her. Just before it could fire, it got bitch slapped by a salvo of rockets. It disappeared in a puff of orange mist.

_Move forward, we're halfway there,_ Cameron said, switching back to her DMR.

_Will you be careful?_ Anna said, switching to a private comm.

_I'll be careful when it's all done._

The refueling depot was dead ahead of them. Massive silos of fuel were burning, almost half of them were gone, and the building was nearly a ruin. Heavy weapons teams strafed the building, and the sound of fuel rod cannons rang out like nothing Cameron had ever heard before.

_Take out those heavies,_ she ordered. A grunt, carrying a cannon, turned towards her. He jumped, but not before Cameron put a bullet into his skull. She snatched up the cannon, and her suit automatically synched up with the ammo counter. She was surprised to see that so little about the cannon seemed to have changed in the past 170 years. Then her suit finished it's quick scan and squawked out a warning; the weapon was in fact, over 170 years old, and was in danger of blowing up. How it lasted this long was a miracle.

Cameron took another look at the cannon. Upon closer inspection, she could see a multitude of hairline cracks in the tarnished gold metal. The entire thing was buffed and polished so many times, the casing was actually wearing thin.

_Actual, be careful, our suits are registering that as live ordinance,_ Anna said.

_I know,_ she said. _But we don't have much of a choice. We need these teams out of the picture, and I'm running low on ammo._

With hardly a prayer, she thumbed the trigger. There was a half-second delay, then the cannon spat out a neon green slug with a dull whump. Her suit registered a spike in radiation, nothing dangerous by itself, but a good way to get crapped up after emptying a few magazines.

The round, a blob of radioactive, incendiary gel flew across the battlefield, hitting a jackal square in the chest and evaporated. Cameron could see the round flutter through the air, spinning left and right, but never in a straight line. She had missed her target of fuel rod carrying grunts by ten feet.

_Take them out,_ she said, lobbing another two rounds towards them. Her suit protested again, and Cameron made a dull note about it.

The cannon seized and the temperature spiked, just behind her head.

_Actual! Watch out!_

Anna tore the cannon from her grip and threw it away. The cannon clattered to the ground twenty feet away, but nothing happened. Cameron could see the barrel turning cherry red and sagging from the heat, but there was no explosion or large release of radioactivity; her suit simply read that it was dead.

_What is going on with you?_ Anna demanded, switching back to her private comm channel. Her demand was cut short when the heavy weapon team opened fire on them.

_Just get to the depot,_ Cameron said. _Spartans! Move!_

The front of the building was destroyed, but to the side was a loading dock, where UNSC personal were making their stand. Soldiers were lying down suppressive fire, and a mounted plasma turret was gunning down the grunts and jackals that were getting too close.

"Over here!" A woman yelled. Her arm was nearly taken off at the elbow by a plasma round. She crouched behind a crate. Cameron made her way to the dock, emptying her next to last magazine. "Heard you guys were coming. Picked a hell of a vackin' day to show up."

"We're just here to help." Cameron pulled out her pistol and tried to take out an Elite.

"I'm not complaining. My ass is in the heat like everyone else here."

"Incoming!"

Heavy weapons and grenades flew at them en masse. It was a massive push by the Covenant, and everyone but Cameron took cover. She emptied her pistol and pulled out her DMR, taking our seven grunts and an elite. She shielded the woman with her body and lost two shield layers for her trouble.

But the damage was done. The soldier manning the turret was blown to pieces; even with shields he never stood a chance.

_Get to cover and get some ammo,_ Cameron said, jumping to the turret. She pulled the severed hand off the trigger and lined up her shot.

The turret was obviously new, but retained the look of the old turret. It had a grip for both her hands, a trigger, and a handle on the upper body making it man portable. But the barrel looked like a miniature MAC cannon barrel, with long rows of what looked like capacitors lining the barrel. But when she pulled the trigger, instead of shooting a high speed slug, it shot out gobs and gobs of plasma. Her suit synched up with the gun and showed her the thermal output and cooling level.

_Fire team beta, cover the facility, make sure none of the silos are being bombed,_ she barked. To the UNSC soldiers, she said, "how safe are those silos?"

"Safe? You mean if they'll blow up?" the soldier who appeared to be in charge said. "They're rated for some pretty heavy crashed, you'll need to hit those things a lot with bombs to crack them."

"Good." The turret heated up as she mowed down the wave of grenadiers. Her shields had fully powered themselves back up again, so she kept an eye on her motion tracker. It was awash in red, so she moved from left to right and back again, pushing the Covenant back and back until they were at the very range of the turret.

Cameron could feel the heat of the turret; she didn't need to look at a display to tell her it was getting hot. She pressed the venting lever, and the body of the turret split open, revealing the inner workings and spewing scalding steam. Safe in her armor, Cameron felt nothing.

"Here they come again," someone yelled. "Get a boom tube! Hunters!"

Four hunters waddled towards them, each pair ten feet apart. Cameron turned the turret on them, and only made their armor heat up. She kept firing, keeping the turret trained on one spot. The rounds bounced off the armor, but the armor in question was heating up. The hunter shrugged at it, trying to get it's flesh off the plate, but with it secured tightly to its arm, there was no way it could get the heat off its arm.

The metal slowly turned red, and the hunter screamed in pain as its arm was cooked. Eventually its baser instincts won out and it tore the armor off its arm. It was promptly cut down by Cameron. It's partner roared and charged, shooting as it went.

The shots exploded around Cameron, weakening her shields until just over two were left. The air exploded around her and through the thick plate, the hunter's head was blown clear off. Anna stood next to her with a rail gun.

_I like this thing, _she said, letting the gun cool down.

But the second hunter pair wasn't giving them room to wait. They were advancing, slowly but surely, their cannons spitting out torrents of neon green fire. The turret was getting very hot, but Cameron couldn't give it the luxury of a cool down. She and Anna killed the next hunter, and finally the last one. Her shields were kept to two bars.

"Holy fuck!"

Motion caught the corner of Cameron's eye. A team of elites had advanced on their opposite side, using the hunters as a distraction. They had gotten so close that they didn't even bother with guns; they pulled out plasma swords instead. Cameron swore she saw them grin as they charged.

"Oh vack, oh vack, oh va—" the marines screamed as they were cut down, sliced apart by the zealots. Anna dropped the rail gun and was pulling out her side arm, but Cameron swung the overheating turret towards them. It was so hot the fire rate fell to next to nothing; the turret was spitting out one round for every half second, barely enough to fell an energy shield. She was lucky and was able to fell one, but a gold armored field marshal charged her, sword held high and a scream on its alien lips.

With a roar of effort, she tore the turret from its tripod, shoved it in front of herself and flicked the venting lever.

The turret split open and showered both with what looked like some neon liquid. The coolant had turned into plasma, but the pressure of the turret's body turned it into a super critical fluid, a substance that was too hot to be a solid or a liquid, but too compressed to be a gas. It splashed over Cameron, and for that one second of contact before it turned into a gas, it shorn through her two shield layers like they weren't even there.

The gold armored elite, however, didn't have the benefit of layered hardlight shields. The super critical plasma touched the shields, and they instantly vanished. The elite screamed in horrible pain as the fluid splashed over him, working its way into his armor's segments and chinks before touching its skin, then turning to steam as the pressure of the turret was released. Somehow, the elite survived the initial splash and staggered back, being cooked alive by the intense heat, all the while screaming its head off.

The other elites paused for a beat as they saw the fate of their leader, then turned on Cameron, who had snapped the turret closed. Why did she do that? There was a perfectly good end to her career, and she gave it up. Was it her training? Her reactions to kill first and fast? Boot camp gave her terribly strong habits, and habits were notoriously hard to break.

The elites fell to the somewhat cooled turret and Anna, but they gave as good as they got. Cameron got sprayed with a few stray needles, and they blew up on her arm. It tore a good chunk of flesh from her arm, but it was hardly a life threatening injury. She screamed her pain as she gunned them down.

_Hold on, I got you,_ Anna said, dropping her gun and going for her first aid kit. The ground shook as drop pods made land fall, and Cameron almost opened fire on them, holding off at the last second as she recognized friendly forces. Spartan-Vs, in fact.

_Where's your squad leader? _Cameron's suit recognized the rank of Major and let him onto their comm channel. She hadn't counted on being alive long enough to worry about superior officers.

_Here, sir._

The Spartan in question stormed up to her, shots sparking off his shields. A few Spartans ran forward, shooting Covenant, but there were UNSC forces here as well. Marines and what appeared to be Hornets pushed the Covenant back.

_What were you thinking? _The Major snapped. _You had direct orders to hold your station until you were assigned a base._

_Sir, the Covenant were landing. In this soldier's opinion, UNSC orbital property needed to be safeguarded, _she said. Anna was slapping bio-foam on her arm. The bleeding stopped.

_That's a job for the fucking OMAC! You treating this act of insubordination as an tryout to join them? Because it's working._

_Sir, this soldier did not mean to use—_

_Shut it, honorary Corporal, that was a rhetorical question, _the major snapped. He looked around, seeing the Covenant being pushed back, then turned back to her. _Good work, Spartan. We need more like you. Get patched up and back on the ready line, looks like there's still a fight going on._

_Sir._

The major walked away, actually drawing his rifle this time.

_Was that you plan? _Anna asked.

_To get chewed out?_

_To get into this one man army thing?_

_No._

_Then what was it?_

Cameron didn't say anything. She was getting out of this scrape, too. Dammit all.

* * *

Roma killed the engine to the Mongoose. They had made it back, but from the looks of things, they missed the main battle. Soldiers ran around carrying stretchers, aid kits, guns, ammo and sand bags. The entire forward operating base was hit fast and hard, and they had only just pushed the Covenant back. This base was never supposed to see heavy action; it was kitted out to be a logistics base. But the Nation's caught them with their pants down, and that changed very fast.

_Dammit, we're too late,_ Ted hissed.

_Take it easy, we missed the vanguard, _Roma said.

_And how long until the main army gets here?_

_That's to be determined._

It wasn't just Spartans that were hurting, there was a sizable marine presence here as well. Most of the human casualties appeared to be marines, but Roma saw a few of the UNSC's Spartan-IVs, and a couple Vs, their own men and women.

Everything had been blasted. It had been a real vanguard attack, with heavy weapons and armor and even air support. Burning wrecks of wraiths, banshees, warthogs and a few odd scorpions littered the field. They should have been there for the fight.

"Well, congratulations everyone," Ted said, walking towards a platoon of battle-weary marines and Spartan-IVs. "You just survived a Covenant assault! And speaking from experience, it looked like it was a_ dozy!_ How do you feel?"

"Fuck off and die!"

"Faaaaantastic!"

_OMAC, get on the line,_ Marcel said on their company's channel._ We got supply drops inbound. We need to get this place back into fighting shape before the main body of the Nations comes down on us. Double time, get to the LZ._

Ted left the marines and jogged over to her.

_We have our orders, OMAC,_ Roma said. _Let's get to those drop ships and help this FOB get back on its feet. Form up!_

A line of Spartans jogged out to the LZ. Drop ships were already landing en mass, unloading supplies and aid kits.

_Question_, Ted said, _are we really going to act as glorified butlers?_

_What do you mean?_

_I got in on this unit because you need things killed, not unpacked. So far, all I've done is jack shit._

_Stow that, Spartan. We have our orders. Unpack now, fight later. _

Ted groaned, but he lined up with the rest of them. Roma was handed ammo boxes, MREs and latrine kits, all the essentials to get a forward operations base set up. Soon one Pelican was unloaded, then the next.

_Get these to the command center, start handing out ammo,_ Marcel commanded._ Roma, we got our own supplies inbound. Stay at the LZ and coordinate._

_Understood._ That meant that Spartan command was sending them special gear for repelling the Nation's advancement, as well as her medication. She and Marcel had long ago set up her medication drops, and when Marcel ordered her to coordinate supply drops, it was also a code-word for her to get her extra meds. She reflexively patted her ammo pouch where she kept two days' worth of dosages.

The next Pelican dropped in, her armor signaling that it was theirs. It spun and landed, and she climbed aboard as soon as the doors were open. There, in the back of the ship, was a small plastic case that held her meds. She opened it to double check; sure enough, she had enough to last her four months. By the time she started running low, the war should have fallen into a rhythm, and supply requests could be completed in an acceptable period of time.

Roma closed the crate just as the rest of the squad came back to unload.

_We got more heavy weapons and ammo here,_ she said,_ get that out first and secure an ammo dump for it. Come on, OMAC, we're on a deadline here._

She handed out a few crates of ammo before grabbing one for herself.

_Be careful with that,_ Ted said, nodding towards her supply of meds. _You might miss a dose in this war._

Roma glared at him, then pointed towards the heaviest crate for him to pick up. Ted chuckled and grabbed the crate.

_With me, we'll stake out a spot,_ she said to her Spartans.

_Yes ma'am. _

UNSC regulations were clear that ammo dumps had to be at least 500 meters away from living quarters. The FOB wasn't that big, so Roma picked out a spot beyond the razor wire fence.

_This is our spot, OMAC,_ she said. _Get the Pelican unpacked, then work on getting this area secure and up to standards. Someone, stay with it._

Alicia nodded and stood watch over the crates. Roma left her meds with the ammo; there was no safer spot for it. She double-timed it back to the Pelican, but was blown off her feet.

Her ears ringing, she struggled to get back up. Everything was screaming at her, her suit, the comm line, and people around her. Roma tried to shake it off, but only succeeded in falling back down.

Hands pulled at her. Marcel was with her, she could feel his hands on her shoulder. Blinking, things became clearer. Her suit's shields were completely spent, and was screaming at her to take cover as they recharged.

"-Roma? Talk to me, Roma," Marcel said.

"I'm okay," she lied. "What happened?"

"Plasma artillery round. Landed a few meters from you, but it got our stockpile."

"Alicia?"

"KIA," Marcel said bitterly. "They're shelling our position, it was a lucky shot."

As her hearing cleared, she heard more and more explosions. She looked around, seeing the devastation unfold. UNSC soldiers were running for the relative safety of their entrenched bunkers, marines and Spartan-IVs alike. Their Spartans, however, were still trying to get weapons off the Pelican.

"Air support is cut off for the time," Marcel said. "At least until we get those artillery pieces offline, or they decide to stop themselves."

"Are we launching a counter-offensive?"

"Soon. The Nations are capitalizing on this. I'm getting word that they're sending a large force our way to kick us out. Come on, get up. We need to plan."

Roma stood, more sure on her feet than she was a minute ago. She and Marcel ran to the Pelican. Their entire OMAC squad was waiting for them, eyes on the sky to try and predict where the next sun-hot plasma would land.

"Okay, Spartans, things are getting interesting," Marcel said.

"About damn time," Ted hissed.

"Cut it, soldier," Marcel snapped. He pulled out a data pad and pulled up the local map. "Command says we have a large armored column heading our way, three dozen tanks and a small battalion, about five hundred troops. We need that out of the way—"

"Ooh! I volunteer!" Ted cried.

Everyone snapped towards him. Ted sounded just like a little kid, one who hadn't even entered boot camp yet. He had his hand raised and everything.

"That's five hundred foot soldiers, Spartan," Marcel said. "With full armor support."

"Sounds like a challenge, sir."

"Sounds like suicide, even for us."

"Eh, yea, probably. The hell, sounds like fun. I still volunteer."

Roma stared at Ted. No one could take that many Covenant on.

"We need you to buy us time," Marcel finally said. "Take what you need, and get to this point here. They have to pass through a UNSC outpost, that'll be the best place to hold them off."

"Got it!" Ted was out running before he even finished talking.

"Give 'em hell, Spartan." Everyone saluted as Ted ran off to do his duty. Roma could have sworn he had a spring in his step.

"Back to business," Marcel continued. "Ted will face the battalion at the outpost, giving us time to get this place back in fighting shape. Once we're sure that the UNSC forces here can hold their own, we'll go and support Ted."

No one mentioned that it would take at least three hours to get everything squared away, let alone to fighting standards. Roma looked out at Ted. He carried UNSC rocket launchers and ammunition by the armful, dumping it in a beaten up Warthog. The passenger seat was already chocked full of guns and ammo.

"We break into fire teams," Marcel continued. "Alpha will be with me. We'll work on getting a defensive parameter set up. Beta will secure the FOB. Charlie will police the wounded, and give the LZ more defenses. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Then look sharp, OMAC, and get the job done."

Roma switched to Beta's frequency.

_Get as many mounted guns on the building as we can, Spartans. The FOB has the only real cover available, so the Nations will hit it hard. We need to hit hard right back at them._

The ground shook from more artillery hits. Roma was amazed more damage hadn't been done. But then again, they already lost one of their own, and a sizable chunk of their small arms ammunition. God knows how much Ted took, so that left them with even less. They were going to be hard pressed to get the FOB back in shape. Maybe they could use their Mongooses as suicide bombers, run them on remote control.

Her armor kept screaming at her for some reason. Roma thought it was some kind of alert, then realized it was her reminder to take her medication. She reached for her ammo pouch and pulled out her vacuum sealed pill bottle, cracking the lid open.

Burned gel poured out. Roma stared at the gel for a second, comprehending what she was seeing. Then it hit her. The plasma artillery round that killed Alicia had also completely knocked out her shields. With no shields, the heat had burst, boiled and burned the gel capsules.

She capped the bottle and threw it away. She had others, backups in case this sort of thing happened. The first twinge of panic hit her when she realized that her backups were in the ammo stockpile that had only recently been blown up. She opened a private comm channel with Marcel.

_What is it, Roma?_

_My meds are gone._

_What do you mean?_

_I mean, they were burned, _she said, heading towards the FOB. Just because she was having a small panic attack didn't alleviate her of her duties. _The plasma round that killed Alicia fried my meds._

_So get your backups._

_The backups were with Alicia._

The line paused as Marcel realized the situation.

_Marcel, I have some more backups on the_ Sparrow Hawk_,_ Roma said._ We just need to put in a requisition order. When will the orbital fighting die down? I'm due a dosage right now._

_The _Sparrow Hawk_ is lost._

_What?_

_It was hit by multiple plasma torpedoes. It went down swinging an hour and ten ago, all hands lost. _

_But I need my meds. Don't you have any backups?_

_We both know my backups were on the _Sparrow Hawk_._

Now Roma was panicking.

_Just…take it easy,_ Marcel said. _You suffer from heightened aggression; maybe if we keep you on drag duty, cover the flank and supply lines, you could avoid an incident._

_OMAC? Cover _supply lines?

_We'll just play it by ear,_ Marcel said.

Roma tried to breathe calmly, but she could practically feel her meds wearing off.


	7. Chapter 7

A line of Elites strolled out of their drop ship. There were plenty of red ones, but the ones that Linda was hoping for, and waiting for, were a pair of gold armored field marshals, who were the last ones out. She was glad that their color-coordinating armor didn't go out of style; she didn't know what she would do if she couldn't pick out their leaders at over a mile away.

She dialed her scope in and looked for signs of wind. The dust blown up from the drop ship hung in the air, meaning there wasn't much of a cross breeze. So she compensated for the Coriolis effect and fired off all four rounds.

She saw the bullets travel through the air, almost sailing across the mile-plus length of field, slowly drifting into the heads of the two field marshals and two random red Elites. Their shields completely failed under the heavy depleted uranium rounds, and their heads simply exploded, their bodies toppling over like marionettes that had their strings cut. The surrounding Elites panicked and screamed a challenge to her, but Linda was already moving. She had done her job, and she was needed to oversee the new course of action.

Linda slid down the rock face of her latest hiding spot, casually reloading, and broke into a slight jog as she ran towards the base. Spartans and Sangheili ran to and from their posts, some carrying weapons and supplies, others carrying wounded on stretchers. It was strange to be so close to their old enemies, but Linda had to get with the changing times. Drop ships, human and redesigned Covenant alike, flew in carrying weary troops from battle and fresh troops to them. There were occasional artillery explosions, but she paid them no mind, just as she casually returned the salutes the Spartans gave her.

"Enjoying yourself?" Fred asked as she walked in to the jury rigged command tent. Kelly, Naomi and Mary stood by General Madani, who was swamped with battle reports.

"Plenty. The attack forces will find themselves without leaders at the current time."

"Excellent. I'll send an OMAC team forward to flush the survivors out," Madani said. The general stood at the holographic table which showed them just how overwhelmed they were. Linda didn't need to add that the forward attack force she rendered leaderless was one of many landing at this time, and once the Covenant found out they were killed, they would only send more troops in. This reminded her of old times. She didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

"General, with all due respect, we can't sit back here in a holding pattern forever," Fred said. "We need to counter on every available front."

"I understand your concern, but this isn't the Human-Covenant War anymore," Madani said. "We can bet on reinforcements coming, we need to hold onto what we have and get ready for them to relieve us."

"Never mind that we have a one-in-three chance of getting those reinforcements," Naomi said. "Earth or the Ark facility might need more help than we do. We need to counter now."

"Mars?"

"The Generals are right," the AI said, winking into existence. Linda looked outside the flap of the tent. There were more drop ships coming in. "However, we also need to act with restraint. Wanton countering will leave our already stressed supply lines vulnerable to attack."

"And the only reason we're still in this fight is because of those supply lines," Madani said. "We stay the course."

"Never had to deal with supply line duty before," Kelly said.

"First time for everything," Linda sighed. "Very well, sir. What shall we do?"

"I need you here, where you can spot counters and advise me," Madani said. "This strange blitzkrieg of theirs is throwing us all out of whack."

"Sir, respectfully, we neither trained nor had experience in managing entire theaters of war," Fred said. "We're soldiers, boots on the ground. Let us go and we'll rally the troops from the local level."

"G-general Fred, you can't be serious," Mary said in her typically stammering manner. "Lead from the front? What would happen if you…you know…"

"Then it's my time. At least I'll know that I could do more there than here."

"Request denied," Madani said flatly. "Imagine the loss of moral if you fell in battle."

"Imagine the boost in moral if we were fighting with the troops," Kelly said.

"Imagine the loss," Madani repeated. He didn't need to stress his words to show that it was his final thought on the matter. "We can't lose you. I hope you can see that."

"So you'll let me work but not them?" Linda asked.

"You can shoot the Nations before they even see you. You face a minimal risk in comparison."

"I don't think we've ever been treated with kid gloves before," Naomi said. Madani glared at her. "This feels really strange."

"Generals, I know this is outside your comfort zone, but I order you to stay in the safety of the green zone," Madani barked.

"Yes, sir," Fred said, snapping a crisp salute. Kelly, naturally, beat him to it. "Where do you need us?"

"I need you to analyze the battle reports as they come in. Report any major activity to me, or relay my orders. You have authority to act in my absence, but obey every order given to you."

"Understood. With your permission, sir, I'd like to take a look at the terrain, see how we can use it to our advantage. We'll just be outside the tent."

"Granted. Command comm is Foxtrot-Tango-Sierra Niner. Stay on comms at all times."

Fred, Kelly, Linda and Naomi saluted as one, then walked out of the tent. Mary ran after them, no more than two giant steps behind them.

"Well?" Kelly asked.

"Um, generals, sir," Mary said, "the terrain is not that different from Sparta. D-do you mean the architecture?"

"I can send you a compressed file that recounts the basics of Sangheili architecture, if it pleases you," the AI Tracy said from Mary's helmet speaker.

"No, that's fine," Fred said. He turned to Linda. "Where was the fighting the heaviest?"

Linda very nearly broke out into a grin. "North-east. They seem to be landing a lot of troops there."

"General? What do you mean?" Mary asked.

"Good. Let's gather up some Warthogs and head over there."

"W-what?"

"We're going to be the counter-attack, that's what," Kelly said.

"B-but, but General Madani gave you an order! You're not supposed to fight!"

"We're not going to fight. We're going to survey the natural terrain and augment the local troop's command structure as they re-take Covenant territory," Fred said.

"And if we're attacked, well, we have to defend ourselves," Naomi said.

"But General Madani—"

"I'm sure that Madani gave you orders to turn us in should we attempt something like this," Fred continued. "Am I right?"

Mary stood ramrod straight, but her nervousness betrayed her; Linda could see her ever-so slightly trembling.

"Yes…"

"I also assume you're supposed to be our bodyguard in case we need one, right?"

"Yes…"

"Then you need to choose which duty you will need to fulfill; guard duty or spy duty. Whatever you pick, do it fast; we're leaving in thirty seconds."

Linda followed Fred as he jogged away from the command tent. Platoons stopped and stood at attention as their HUDs identified them.

"You, platoon leader, what's your name and mission?" Fred asked the closest Spartan.

"Don, sir, we're to augment a defense line, prepare it for a Nation push, sir," the Spartan said.

"Are you okay with disobeying orders, Don?"

"Sir?"

"We aim to commandeer you and your platoon, use you to run counter-attacks against the Covenant. That's flying directly in the face of orders from General Madani himself, as well as the regular chain of command. Are you comfortable with that?"

"Sir, I am not comfortable with that, but I cannot pass up the opportunity to fight with you or the other Generals. My platoon is yours."

"Do the rest of you share that feeling?" Fred asked the platoon.

"Yes, sir!" The response was heartwarming. Linda felt a little better about this slapped-together op.

"Then I'm sorry to inform you that you are having comm troubles," Fred said. "We can't seem to raise Command on the channel, and don't have time to fix this problem."

"It's regrettable, sir," Don said.

"Get your platoon mounted up, we needed to leave ten seconds ago."

The Spartans moved like someone dunked ice water down their skivvies. In seconds, Warthogs were pulled up and loaded with personnel and weapons."

"Wait for me!"

Linda, settling into the front seat of a Warthog, turned around. Mary was running towards them full tilt, data pad still clutched in her arms.

"You better get a gun, Spartan. The Covenant can't be lectured to death," she said.

"I-I have my sidearm," Mary said.

"Someone, get her a rifle." The sentence barely left her mouth when someone shoved a hardlight rifle into Mary's arms.

"General Madani is going to send me to the brig for this," she muttered as she climbed aboard.

"We'll keep you company," Linda said. The Warthog's engine roared and they sped off.

"They'll never jail you," Mary said. "Court martial, yes, but they would never throw you in jail."

"We're a team now, Mary. And we look out for our team," Linda said.

It was hard to tell with the mirrored visor, but Linda knew Mary was staring at her. She wished she knew what she was thinking, or feeling. A sharp turn upset her center of gravity, and she held onto the side of the Warthog, breaking her hard look.

"I never thought I'd be doing this again," she said.

"It's like riding a bike; you never forget."

"No, no, I know I can fight, but fight with you? Fight at all? That's not supposed to be in the cards for soon-to-be BCD fuck-ups like me."

"They served you a Bad Conduct Discharge?" Linda asked.

"No, not yet. But they should have."

"Spartan discharges are different than UNSC discharges," Tracy said. "Because even a highly injured Spartan still has military value, they treat discharges differently. Currently, there have only ever been twenty-five full discharges."

"I should have been the twenty-sixth. But they made me an aide instead."

"What's so hard about discharges? If they discharge you, would you become a civilian?"

"Civilians tolerate us as best they can, but we've never really been popular with them. We make up a sizable portion of the work force, and even some sports and entertainment groups, but we're always in a different level of categorization."

"With rotations, jobs need to be held while the Spartan is on duty. In sports, Spartan records are kept different from civilian records," Tracy said.

"We're tolerated, nothing more, nothing less."

"Sounds harsh."

"Mary is being hard on herself again," Tracy said. "There are a few Spartan-civilian partnerships in—"

"Tracy!" Linda was taken aback by that outburst; Mary never seemed to raise her voice.

"Strike a chord?" She asked.

Mary seemed to try and fold in on herself. "I…had a civilian partner for a while."

"That's good, right?"

"He…was my drinking buddy."

"And?"

Mary didn't elaborate.

"I'm sorry if I pushed on that."

"Thank you, sir."

"Comm check!"

Linda was pulled back into the action. She checked her suit and calibrated the comm channel. She flashed the all-good signal.

_Stay sharp, Spartans,_ Fred said._ Covenant forces seem to be here for something. Could be to establish a firebase, could be a scorched earth op, it could be to set up supply lines. Sadly, they will note be completing their goals. Stay frosty, and take out—_

The comm channel in Linda's helmet was suddenly turned over to Madani's frequency.

_General Fredrick! What the hell do you think you are doing?!_

_Sorry, sir?_ Fred said.

_You disobeyed a direct order, dammit! What are—_

_Sir? You're breaking up, I'm getting static on the line._

_Goddammit, this line is good! Don't you dare shut it down!_

_I can't hear you, sir, but we're heading to the front to lead some troops. We'll give you an update every hour._

Linda could almost hear Kelly laughing as Fred killed the comm channel.

_Contact! Nation forces at 11 o'clock_! Someone yelled.

_Get ready, Spartans. We're taking this land back._

She leaned out of the Warthog and scanned the area. Sure enough, there was a squad of jackals hiding on the second floor of a Sangheili building. Linda pulled up her rifle and put four of them down.

_That looks like a good spot, I'm taking the high ground there,_ she said.

_Understood._

She turned to Mary.

_You'll do good. I know you can._

Then she jumped out, rolling on the ground to bleed off the speed before she tore anything, and popped to her feet. The building was good, but not great. It would serve as a good starting point for her work.

* * *

Everything was just so _sharp_. The light blinded her, the sound deafened her, the ground was breaking her feet, her heart labored in her chest, even the air seemed heavier to her. Roma did her best to not gasp in pain/discomfort, but everything she did seemed to push her over the edge. If this was the feeling of withdraw, she wished for it to stop.

_How are you doing?_ Marcel asked her on their private comm channel.

_Wish I could say I was good. _She turned down the volume on the channel; Marcel almost blasted her ears out, and he wasn't even talking loud_. At least the artillery isn't as heavy._

_It could be the counter-attack that platoon Golf is running. They've already knocked out three groups of artillery Wraiths._

Roma was glad they were still on FOB restoration duty; a firefight now would probably kill her. She put the finishing touch on the quick-dry concrete section she was working on. Now the base only looked terrible.

_Finished reinforcing the concrete. What's next on the list?_

_We already got the forward gun emplacements, so work on the barbed wire and mines. _

_Any word on the battalion? _

_They're still stuck at the outpost._

That was unreal. Ted ran off five hours ago; he should have been steamrolled in less than an hour. Whatever he was doing, it was buying them more time than they ever expected to get.

_He's doing good, _Roma said.

_He is supposed to be the first hyper-lethal Spartan V, so at least he's living up to that expectation, _Marcel said_. Either way, this is good news for us._

Her stomach heaved, and she nearly doubled over. She couldn't remove her helmet in the middle of a combat zone, so she puked in her helmet.

_Roma, are you okay? _Marcel's voice was finally muffled, but it didn't help that it was muffled because her vomit clogged the speakers. Roma kept to her feet, heaving again. Her suit recognized her nausea and opened a few vents, allowing the stuff to leak out of her helmet. Roma gasped and turned her air conditioning to max to dry out the vomit. Once they were safer, she would clean her helmet out.

_No, I'm not okay, _she coughed. _But I'll be better._

_Make that your top priority. I need my right hand at her best._

_Understood, sir_. She was glad Marcel cared for her. She couldn't ask for a better partner.

* * *

_We need to talk about this, _Anna said.

_Can we not talk about this now? _Cameron asked, laying down suppressive fire.

_No, we _need_ to talk about this._

_What is there to talk about?_

_How about your little self-imposed suicide mission? _A grenade blew a cadre of grunts up, sparking their methane tanks and creating secondary explosions_. There's always that._

_Anna, please._

_Please what? Let you go running off again with a death wish? What has gotten into you? I risked my life just to get you to slow down for a little._

_You didn't need to do that._

_Yes I fucking did. We're partners, Cameron. That means we tell each other things._

Cameron didn't respond, instead focusing on reloading. She was getting slow, not from exhaustion or even pain, it was just too hard to keep going and moving.

_You've been moody since we were woken up,_ Anna said. _Why? Are you feeling depressed again?_

Cameron wanted to say something, but couldn't make herself say anything.

_It is, isn't it? Why? You were so much better before we went into suspended animation. What happened?_

_I…_Cameron paused. _I just…I was just expecting never to wake up again._

_Never?_

_Never._ An elite roared and charged them. Moving on pure muscle memory, Cameron put it down with a headshot._ It would have been better._

_Why? Talk to me, Cameron. I want to know what's going on with you._

A grenade blew up, throwing Cameron to the ground and taking out a layer of shields. Anna pulled her to her feet.

_Thank you,_ she muttered. _I'm just tired. All the missions were too much. And everyone always looks to me, like I have the answer to all of our problems. And then people die. They always die._

_I haven't died because of you._

_Bridget did._

Anna paused. The Covenant were running, trying to get out of the base. The marines that had joined them cheered and pushed to rout them.

_You can't keep blaming yourself for that,_ she finally said. _Bridget made the choice to save you, that's not your fault._

_I put us in that situation,_ Cameron said. _Isn't that the same thing?_

_No, it isn't. And do you really want her sacrifice to be in vain? That's all we can do, keep moving forward and not let those sacrifices be in vain._

_You sound like Lucy._

_You're not the only one Lucy helped, remember?_

Cameron nodded.

_That's why we need to help each other, so we can overcome our struggles. I'm your partner, Cameron. I'm here for you._

_Good work, Spartans._ Their private comm channel was overridden by a higher command. Both Spartans turned to the major who had taken command. And he was a real major, not a frozen Spartan with an honorary rank.

"Sir," both said, saluting.

"Not bad for disobeying orders," he said, returning the salute. "What possessed you to re-take this facility?"

"Nothing, sir," Cameron said. "I just thought that they could use our help."

"'Use our help?' Have you been on the command channel?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I was a little preoccupied with the Covenant to update myself."

"I can see that. The Nations have been targeting space ports all over the planet," the major said. "Large, small, civilian, military, they've all been hit by at least orbital bombardments. The UNSC has lost a huge stockpile of fuel and reactor materials, at least the ones that are readily available to them."

"Sir, does command have an idea for what they're planning?" Anna asked.

"Not much of one. The only pattern they could pull out of this Charlie Foxtrot are the attacks on space ports. They've hit cities, country sides, even a tiny island in the Pacific. Completely took it over and established a base there, right out in the middle of nowhere. Command thinks they want to bring this to a ground game as soon as possible, the way they've been gambling and losing ships of their own."

"Are we stuck on Earth, sir?" Cameron asked.

"For the time. Command has already sent a report to our reserve fleet, but we have no idea if they'll respond to us. Word from the Ark and Shangheilos is about the same; doesn't matter what they do, they aim for space ports. This is one of the few space ports we were able to save, all thanks to you."

"I hope they bring this to a ground game," Cameron said, "because at the rate we're going, we won't have a way to get off-planet."

* * *

"You'll do fine," Tracy said.

"Sure," Mary said. She gripped her rifle harder. It felt like every shred of her being was being pulled apart from stress. She needed a drink. Instead, she swallowed her spit.

She ducked behind the C-pillar of the Warthog as a group of Nation jackals opened fire on them. Mary leaned out and was one of the many Spartans to gun them down. The Warthog kept moving, never stopping for the seven jackals they just killed.

"I'm picking up a rogue Sangheili SOS," Tracy said.

"Boost it," Mary said. "Where is it coming from?"

"A small military outpost."

Mary switched to the comm channel.

_Sir, I'm getting a signal from a Sangheili soldier,_ she said. _It's an SOS._

_Put it up on the map, Corporal. That's where we're heading._

_Yes, sir._

She just added it to the platoon's shared network when the Warthog changed directions, heading to the building. More Nation forces were patrolling the area, and opened fire.

_Get out, we're hoofing it, _Fred snapped._ Drivers, do some light scouting. Get to the building, set up a perimeter. _

_Yes, sir._

Everyone had a fire team, a group of people to belong to, but Mary didn't. She ran towards Fred and Naomi. She saw Kelly dart ahead, just behind the Warthogs.

_Where is Kelly going? _She asked.

_Doing what she does best,_ Fred said._ Initial recon work and drawing fire._

_She's drawing fire?_ Mary gasped.

_She was always the rabbit, _Naomi said. Plasma flew overhead, and the two generals moved to return fire, but it was for nothing. Two staccato cracks and the grunts that were shooting at them were dead.

_Was that General Linda?_

_Who else could it be? _Fred said.

The generals were fighting. Madani was clear that that wasn't supposed to happen, it was her job to make sure of it, to do everything so that it wouldn't happen. And here she was, fucking up again. She wanted a drink.

"Mary, it will be okay," Tracy said to her inside her helmet.

"No, it won't. This wasn't supposed to happen, I was supposed to stop it from happening."

"They're Spartans; was a Spartan ever supposed to turn down a fight?"

"If we're ordered to!"

The building Tracy found was a hotbed of Nations activity. It was three stories of grunts and jackals firing from the windows, with the occasional Sanghaili barking orders. Mary put herself between the building and Fred as he found cover across the street.

_Covering fire,_ he barked. _We're taking the building._

Mary obliged, emptying the clip of her hardlight rifle into the second floor. One grunt was in the wrong spot at the wrong time and was killed, but the others just ducked, which was exactly what was supposed to happen.

Kelly ran in. It hardly seemed like she was running; it was like she was flying low to the ground.

_Cover the general!_ Mary screamed, and a fire team ran in to follow them. Fred and Naomi were hot on their heels, and Mary cursed. She told herself that she wasn't going to be screwing up again, and look how long that promise lasted. It was like screwing up was the only thing she was good at. She picked herself up and ran, trailing Fred.

The inside of the building was an open atrium. Dead Sangheili were piled in a corner, haphazardly thrown to the side. Blood was everywhere, but the Covenant didn't seem to mind. Two red armored Sangheili were trying to shoot Kelly, but she was a blur of motion, darting in close and pulling out a knife.

The Sangheili tried to fight back, lashing out with their aged plasma rifles, but Kelly flowed around the strikes like water, breaking joints and sinking her knife into flesh. The Sangheili screamed, and she finished them.

_Enjoying yourself?_ Fred asked.

_Just getting the kinks out._

Mary ran to the nearest stairs, determined to be the first one up the stairs, just in case the Covenant got smart and threw a grenade down as they advanced up. Her heart pounded as she made it to the second level, and ten grunts jumped as she popped out from the stairwell.

She had only gotten a two-second burst off when the grunt nearest to the window exploded, taking out four of his friends. It was hard to hear, and Mary almost missed it, but she was able to hear the crack of a sniper rifle before the grunt's grenade exploded.

_Be advised, I'm picking up contact all over the upper levels,_ Linda said._ I'll keep an eye out for you._

_General Linda, I'm supposed to be the one protecting you, _Mary protested. _Let me do my job. _

_Negative, I'm neutralizing combatants._ More shots rang out, and the dull thump of a secondary explosion rattled the ceiling.

_This is getting out of hand,_ Mary thought as she moved through the building. The third floor only had a jackal and a grunt left; everyone else was dead. Mary finished off the grunt, but the jackal was able to bring its shield to bear. Her hardlight rounds bounced off the shield.

The wall exploded and the jackal fell down with its head blown off.

_This Promethean Vision thing is nifty,_ Linda chuckled.

_I'm glad one of us is enjoying this, _Mary said, checking the room. It was obvious that it was the command room; computers and holographic displays lined the walls, and only a few of them were not destroyed.

"Unload me there," Tracy said. Mary pulled the AI's chip from her helmet and inserted it into the nearest terminal. Tracy's bookshelf avatar appeared in midair.

"Scanning," she said. "It looks like all friendly Sangheili forces were slaughtered; the SOS was their last stand. The Nations was trying to access the files here."

"What files?"

"They're encrypted. Wait one while I run a decryption algorithm." Books floated off Tracy's shelf avatar in a perpetual mode of reorganization. "Done. It appears this terminal holds refueling records for a small portion of the Sangheili fleet."

"How small?"

"Only half a dozen ships. They're civilian repair ships, too. Nothing of military value."

"Were they targeting those ships?"

"It's hard to say. They were unable to access the data, although they copied it and uploaded it to their network. Then again, the encrypted file was one of many that were uploaded. This could have been an intel gathering mission."

"In the middle of an invasion?"

"They might be using the attacking forces to mask their special operations group." Mary turned around. Fred, Kelly and Naomi had entered the floor, along with a small fire team that was acting as their bodyguards.

"Is that what you think, sir?"

"It certainly fits their M.O.," Naomi said. "It's a Kansas City Shuffle."

"A…what?"

"Sorry, old ONI figure of speech," she said. "Kansas City Shuffle: everyone looks left, and you go right."

"You're suggesting this entire invasion was a cover for a special operations task force," Tracy said.

"Well, it sure looks that way. Take a look at their armor. That's Zealot-pattern armor. Haven't seen armor that fancy since…" Naomi drifted off, as if she was trying to figure out how much to give away. "Well, it's been a while."

"Maybe it was a dual-purpose invasion. Invade and get an idea of what you're up against," Kelly said.

"While your invading?" Fred said.

"Crazier things have happened."

Thrusters kicked up the air outside. Mary looked out the window and saw a drop ship landing. Spartans piled out of the ship, and her HUD picked out General Madani from among the soldiers.

"Uh, generals, General Madani is here," she stammered.

"I'll go out and deal with him," Fred said.

"Sir, are you sure?"

"Very. It's been a while since I've been chewed out, but I can take this."

Fred left the room, with Kelly and Naomi following him.

"Do you thing General Naomi is right?" Mary asked Tracy.

"I hope she is not," the AI responded. "If she is, than this is more than just a simple invasion. And with one-fourth of the fleet holding out in reserves, our ability to counter this attack is very limited."


End file.
